


Angel In Training

by angelpops_1818



Series: All of Heaven and Earth [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angels, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Maybe - Freeform, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelpops_1818/pseuds/angelpops_1818
Summary: A case Sam & Dean are working on introduces them to a fellow Hunter, but when she takes a hit on the case, the only way to save her imbues her with power she doesn't even understand. She becomes a walking target- can the brother's protect her?Eventual Dean x OFC





	1. What's Up, Doc?

"Well, Mr Bennett, your stitches are healing nicely, you should be out in a couple days." I pinged off my latex gloves and neatly tossed them into a nearby bin. "Lay off the red meat, though, okay champ?" I smiled at the old the man in the bed in front of me, he watched me pick up his chart. "You're doing, good, Mr Bennett, I promise. I'll send Nurse Lenowski to check on you in an hour or so- get some rest."

"Thanks, Doc."

I gave him another smile before I backed out of the room and out onto the ward. Ten down, two to go. I can do this. I started absent-mindedly picking up patients' charts from the Nurses' station and fiddling with discarded pens. Did I have to stay out so late last night? Moonlighting is hard work.  
All my patients were either sleeping or in surgery and since I wasn't in ER, I had the rare treat of basically having nothing to do. I noticed the rather intimidating pile of prescriptions on one of the nurse's desks, so decided to make my way down to the store room to get some them dispensed. Besides, Geoff, the Pharmacist, had worked at the Hospital for twenty-five years, so he always had some good stories to tell.

When I reached the door of the store room, I noticed it was locked. It was 9.45, he shouldn't be on a break. I slipped the prescriptions in my coat pocket and pulled out my cell. It was paranoia, but paranoia came with the job. After a couple of seconds scrolling for his name, I pressed dial. It took a while to connect, but eventually started to ring. I paced outside the door, the dial tone in m year. But stopped dean as the already dull strip lights flickered and cut out. The high-pitched trill of a cell phone ringing from inside the store-room sent my alertness into overtime. I tried the handle again, knowing it would be fruitless. Slipping my cell back into my pocket, I sent a silent thanks to whatever was up there that I was wearing sneakers, and rammed my foot into the door. The sound of the wood splitting reverberated through the empty corridor, and I made my way into the room.

"Geoff? You in here?" The lights were out in the store room, too, and there were no windows to let in the morning light. I had nothing on me except my cell, so I pulled it out for a second time and powered up its built-in flashlight, every step punctuated by the thudding of my heart in my chest.

"Geoff? It's Maya. Everything okay?" There was no response, so I edged further into the room. My eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness as I scanned the area. The flashlight landed on something; glistening, wet, red.

"Geoff?" I tried to keep my voice steady. The lights hummed and flicked on as I followed the trail to a mass slumped in the corner of the room. I didn't have to check his pulse. It was a bloody mess, and I'd seen bloody messes in my time. He was barely recognizable. His face was pulverized, and through his torn clothes I could see cuts and slashes along his torso and arms. I took a couple of breaths, left the room as it was, and slowly backed up and back into the corridor. I dialled 911, but didn't wait for them to come.

* * *

"Excuse me, Doctor? Can we ask you a few questions?"

I looked up from my chart to see a couple of huge men in scrubs peering down at me.

"Questions? What about?" I eyed them suspiciously.

"Uh. Well… We heard about that pharmacist, and uh, about how weird it was and, uh, thought… you know… you could tell us what happened? You found him, right?" The tallest one asked, with a suspiciously well-practiced nervousness.

I raised my eyebrows at them. "And you are?"

"Mike Hanson. This is my friend…"

"Tom Wilson. We're interns." The shorter one offered his hand to me, and I took it stiffly, making sure they were aware of my suspicions.  
Interns? Bullshit. They looked as old as me.

"Interns? Great! Would you mind giving me a hand with Mrs Millings over there? She collapsed yesterday, thought you could look at these ECG results…" I let the sentence hang in the air and they shifted awkwardly. The one with the short hair tried to charm me with a smile.

"Ok, you got us. We run a crime blog. All the weird stuff, you know." The taller one nudged him not-so-subtly and he winced at the contact.

I humoured them: I'd done this same song and dance more times than I could remember. "Interesting... I get off at six, meet me at the diner at the end of the street: Sal's. We can talk there."

* * *

 

I made the conscious effort to be late to our meetings, and when I got there I could see them sitting in a booth through the large windows. I pushed the door open and headed straight for the counter to order a tea. I made small talk with the waitress before making my way to their booth. I slid in next to the taller one, his friend sat opposite. I got a good look at them, now. They'd changed out of their doctor's costumes, and boy did their outfits give them away. Henleys, plaids, boots. It was were handsome, both ridiculously so. The tallest of the two had better hair than me, all chestnutty and shiny; his eyes were friendly and face warm. The other was all cheek bones and careless stubble, eyes green and glittering, even in the unflattering lights of the diner, he took me by surprise. He had this slightly weather-worn look to his face, as though he'd been through too much and was tired of it all, but his eyes still had this light behind them that made him look like a cheeky eighteen-year-old. I was here to do business, though.

"Tom, Mike, nice to see you." I was reserved.

"Uh, you too, Doctor-"

My tea was set in front of me and I took a sip, wincing at the weak, watery taste. "Crime bloggers, huh? Anything I've heard of?"

"I, um, doubt it," the voice came from next to me. "We're up and coming, pretty small, you know?"

I smiled. "Mmm. So, what're you thinking? Ghost? Demon? Some other horrific and terrifying entity?"

Both of them looked at me like I'd started speaking Klingon.

I made my most innocent face. "Well, you are hunters, right?"

"How... how do you know about hunters?" Big and tall raised a quizzical eyebrow.

I took another sip of tea. "I am one."

"You're a hunter? But you're a doctor?" 'Tom's' expression was doubtful.

"I work in the hospital part time, and take local cases as they came. I'm Maya Cole..."

The pair visibly stiffened; I didn't blame them, it's hard to trust anyone in our line of work, fellow hunters included.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother, Dean." Sam offered me his hand, but Dean gave me only a semi-corteous nod.

"So, you want my help with this?"

"We don't usually let tag-alongs on our cases." Dean said, pointedly.

"This is where I work, it happened in my hospital. Doesn't that make you the tag-alongs?"

* * *

Dean watched the Doctor as she slid through the glass door and to the counter and he felt his brother doing the same. She stood with her back towards them while she ordered, hovering for a few seconds, then turned on her heel and made her way toward them. She was pretty, Dean couldn't help but notice; auburn hair, skin fair but warm. Her expression was tight, business-like, thought. The lab-coat was swamping her small frame, but her slim-fit trousers accentuated her waist and her polka-dot blouse was unbuttoned a little lower than he expected. She slid in their booth next to Sam, and a cup of tea was set in front of her.

"So, what're you thinking? Ghost? Demon? Some other horrific and terrifying entity?"

Dean felt his mouth fall open slightly, she gave them an innocent look.

"Well, you are hunters, aren't you?"

"How... do you know about hunters?" He heard Sam ask.

"I am one."

Dean's looked at her incredulously. "You're a hunter? But you're a doctor?"

"I work in the hospital part time, and take local cases as they come. I'm Maya Cole."

Dean felt his body tense, trust didn't come easy in their line of work. He looked at Sam, who already had his hand extended to her.

Idiot. He gave her a half-nod.

She offered her help, but he was reluctant to accept. Outsiders slow them down, make them weak. They didn't have time for that.

"Look. Geoff was my friend. He'd work at the hospital for a quarter of a century. I can't sit idly by and let someone else do the work. It'll be at lot easier if we work together." She gave them an imploring look.

"I... think it's a great idea." Sam said. "Three's better than two right?"

"Right." Dean found himself agreeing.

He caught Maya's eye and bowed away from her stare. It wasn't unfriendly, more contemplative, and that's worse. She sighed.

"Hey, I know it's sucks working with other hunters sometimes, but you're in my city, my place of work, dealing with my friend. I'm working this with or without you. You can say no, it's fine, but if you decide to go the sensible route, here-" she pulled her prescription book and a pen from her pocket and scribbled something down. "My address. I have a couple of spare rooms and a house too big for one. You can stay with me while we work this out. If not, there's a really great motel a few blocks from here, it's only been tented by exterminators three times this year."

Sam chuckled and she gave Dean a sly smile. "I'm gonna get groceries. Dinner's at eight. " She pushed herself out from the booth and started for the door, but turned back round after just a few steps. She took her pen and scribbled again on the piece of paper.

"In case you get lost."

Dean found his gaze following her until she was out the door and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set an unspecified time, so it's easier to take a few liberties with the story :P ... definitely set sometime after season six, but other than that I've left the timing deliberately vague. Hope've enjoyed the first chapter!


	2. I Made You Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for how short the intro chapters are, but I just want to introduce our Character and set up the dynamics between her and the boys, without the story getting in the way! They'll get beefier, I swear!

I found a decent spot at my local supermarket, but stayed in the truck for a few moments before getting out. I'd never had another hunter work a case with me here, let alone invited two into my own home. They didn't strike me as weird, but in this line of work you never know. They were friendly, but not overly; being over-friendly is a major red-flag. Sensibly reserved, that's how I'd put it. Sam was a lot friendlier than Dean was, but more serious. Dean was less open but he spoke with a constant air of sarcasm. I wondered whether I'd made the right call, but having an extra two hunters on the case would make my life a lot easier. I slipped out of the truck and headed inside, finding myself going all badly written female rom-com character: I mean, I wasn't immune to the charm of a couple of extremely attractive guys, although at our first meeting I made sure I hid that pretty well. Sam was exactly the kind of guy I usually went for, reserved, smart, a little too serious, but Dean? Dean was the one my kind kept drifting back to. From first impressions, we had similar ways, which is exactly why he wasn't my usual type. Quick off the mark with a quip, a little rude, but not in a way that would make you dislike him. I smiled a little. Better pick up some beers.

I cheered internally as I got I.D'd for the six pack I'd picked up and headed back to the truck. I had a couple of missed calls as I slid into the driver's side. I called the number back.

"Dinner's at eight, right?" It was Dean's voice that greeted me.

"Well, hello to you, too."

"Yeah. Could you pick up some beers while you're out?"

I laughed to myself, but didn't respond. "Bye, Dean."

* * *

 

They were pulled up outside my house when I get there, which was a good sign. As I slipped out of my truck I quietly admired their ride. It was a 67 Chevy Impala, and it was immaculate. That said a lot about Dean… I guessed it was Dean's.

"Need a hand?" Sam helped me haul a couple of bags out of the trunk and followed me up the driveway. I struggled to yank my keys from my purse and balance the couple of bags I was holding, but the inevitable descent of the six pack was avoided by Dean's superhero-like sprint to catch them.

"Nice moves. You just saved me eight bucks." I gave him an appreciative smile and finally managed to get open my front door.

Sam and Dean waited in the doorwar, anticipating what was coming. The house was warded, but it never hurts to check. I pulled my travel-size bottle of Holy Water from my bag and stifled a giggle at the look of irritation that swept over Dean's face at the contact. I hung up my bag and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

"You guys vampires? You don't need me to invite you in…" They stumbled awkwardly through the door and stopped again just past the threshold, awaiting instruction. I smiled warmly at their sudden shyness.

"Lounge is through there. The Wifi password is on a post-it next to the router, and the TV controls should be on the coffee table. I'll be in the kitchen. I hope you like casserole."

They left their bags at the foot of the stairs and practically tiptoed into the living room.

I was chopping onions when I heard the kitchen door creak open, and I turned to see Dean peering around the door.

"Hey, could I grab a couple of those beers now?"

"Sure. Fridge is over there." I heard the clink of bottles and the slam of the fridge door and expected a quick thank you and for Dean to slip back out into the lounge, but he didn't. Instead, I watched him hop on the countertop a couple of feet from me and slide me a bottle.

"So, how long you been huntin'?" I bristled a little.

"Fourteen years. Since I was twenty. It kind of runs… ran in the family." He nodded like he understood.

"Tough life, huh? All kinds of messy. Parents?"

I set down my knife and took a swig of my beer. "My dad, and my grandad. Both hunters. The best in the business, in their prime." I felt uneasy talking about dad, I hadn't done much of that since he passed. "Dad got sick though. Tried to take a wendigo when he wasn't at the top of his game…" I let the sentence hang, unfinished, between us, and watched him take another sip of beer.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft, genuine. I was surprised.

"Hey, you know the life. You're lucky to see forty. He did good."

"Guess you're right. Can I do anythin'?" I eyed the bag of potatoes in front of me. "Can you peel?" I asked, hoping he expected me to refuse his help.

"Baby, I can peel, chop, whatever you want" He aimed a wink my way and rolled up his sleeves. "These are gonna be the best potatoes you've ever had."

"Oh yeah?" I handed him a knife, letting myself get close enough to him that I could smell his cologne. "Show me whatcha got." I found my mind drifting to the case while I cooked, Dean bustling along beside me, following my orders.

I let my mind drift to the case. I was thinking ghost, after all it _was_ a hospital. One ghost, in a creepy old manor house, or an abandoned asylum: easy as pie. Burn the bones. Burn anything that might tie the spirit to this world. In a hospital? Thousands of people dying? Where the hell do we start? I watched Dean stir a pot on the stove, looking like a total natural, and hoped to god he some sort of idea.

"I think this is ready. Damn, it smells good. I really am a gift to mankind." He looked proud of himself and I tried not to smirk as I tried the gravy.

"Well damn, this really is a culinary feat, we should get you a Michelin star." I pulled out my least crappy plates and Dean grabbed a few more beers from the fridge. Dean held the door open for me as I slipped through into the dining room, plates in hand. I took my place next to Sam and opposite Dean.

"Well, I've told you all about my life, it's time for you to tell me about yours. It's only fair, I made you dinner. Anything I should know."

Dean moved his eyes from mine to Sam. "Should we tell her?"

"Just the best stuff."

Dean took a breath. "We stopped the apocalypse, we released Lucifer from his cage, we stuffed Lucifer back in his cage, we've both been to hell and back."

"You stopped the apocalypse?" I asked, dumbly.

"Yep."

"You've been to hell?"

"And back." Sam added. "Anything else?"

"We know the king of hell." A smirk spread across Dean's face as saw the dumbfounded look on my face.

"We're best buds with an Angel."

"An angel? Like, with a halo?"

"Nah, angels are mostly assholes. They don't get halos." Dean smirked, and I blinked like an idiot. "Hey, Cas. Come say hey."

I expected something amazing to happen, but instead there was an awkward silence.

"Damn Cas. Never shows up when he's asked." Dean mumbled, slipping his cell from his pocket. I saw Sam grinning out of the corner of my eye.

"Angels have cell phones?"

"This one does." Sam answered.

"Cas, get your ass here…Tulsa…The case we told you about… just get down here, Cas, you're making me look lame."

I started to giggle but it was cut short by the heart-attack inducing appearance of a dude in a trench coat, out of thin air, right in front of me.

"You rang?" "Alright, Lurch. I wanna introduce you to our new friend. Castiel, this is Maya Cole, Maya Cole, this is Castiel, a god damn real life Angel of the Lord."

If I had a weaker disposition, I'd probably have passed out by now, but if vampires and werewolves and shapeshifters existed, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by angels.

"Well, Castiel. Welcome to Tulsa."


	3. Wildlings

I woke up early the next morning, even though it was my day off. I showered quickly, and headed downstairs to make myself some breakfast. I was pretty distracted by the thought of pancakes that the three large men in my dining room startled me more than I cared to admit.

“Jeez, you guys sure know how to scare a girl…” I smiled, slipping into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The dining table was strewn with newspaper clippings and acquired police reports, and I struggled to even set three mugs and a pot down. I looked at Castiel. “Do you… drink coffee? Or.. anything for that matter?”

He regarded me a neutral expression. “I do not need any sustenance from food.” Dean nudged him. “Thank you.” He added.

I started pouring for the rest of us, and Sam turned his attention from his laptop to me. 

“Thanks, Maya. So, we spent all last night researching the case. Turns out this wasn’t the first time someone was killed in unusual circumstances at the hospital. Seems to be every ten years or so, started in 1905.”

“Okay… so definitely weird and definitely our deal, right? 1905, did you say? That’s the same year the hospital opened its doors.”

“This place wasn’t always a hospital?” Dean asked, taking a cautious sip of hot coffee. “Needs sugar.”

I scoffed in response. “As far as I know, it was built totally from scratch in 1905. God knows what it was before then.”

I watched Sam raise his eyebrows. “We should probably find that out.”

“How about we check out the hospital this morning?” I suggested.

Dean nodded his consent. “Sounds like a plan. Then we find out what that place used to be.”

* * *

 

Dean started Baby up feeling like a goddamn taxi service: Sam riding shotgun, Cas and Maya in the back.

“I could have driven, you know.” Maya informed him.

“You’re more than welcome to, sweet thang,  But we’re goin’ in Baby.” He replied, pulling off the driveway and into the road. He heard her huff as she settled into her seat, and smiled smugly, hoping she’d see it in the rear-view. He was inexplicably looking forward to seeing her work; she talked the talk, but he wondered just how good she was. She’d told him and Sam about some of the recent cases she’d worked, and she was impressive, especially given that she hunted alone. His eyes drifted to look at her in the mirror as he waited at some lights. She looked focused, ready. Her auburn hair was pulled up loosely on the top of her head and she had her lab coat on over her sweater, under the pretence that she was working an extra shift and showing some interns around. He pulled his gaze away just as the light’s changed and hoped Sam hadn’t caught him looking. Then again, this was Dean, if there’s a woman in his presence, he’s gonna look. They pulled up outside Tulsa General Hospital fifteen minutes later, and he, Sam and Cas trailed like lost puppies behind Maya as she expertly made her way around the hospital, greeting doctors and nurses and vaguely introducing them as “friends of a friends- interns.” It was quiet, but it wasn’t dead, and it would still be difficult to start stalking around with their EMF detector beeping at random intervals without raising some eyebrows.

When they reached the stairway that led to the storerooms downstairs, it started going crazy. “Yep. Definitely something weird going on down here.” Dean eyes scanned the surroundings as they slipped down the stairs. It had only been a couple of days since Geoff died, so the area was still sealed off. Dean hoped the cops had all gone.

“Spirit seems like the answer.” Sam mumbled, inspecting some black, goopy stuff that marked the wall outside the storeroom door. “Ectoplasm.”

“We got an angry boy on our hands then, huh?” Dean heard Maya ask.

“You saw what he did to your buddy. Seemed pretty damn mad.” he replied, his hand resting on the door handle.

The door wasn’t locked, so Sam and Dean went in while Cas and Maya waited outside, guns loaded with salt rounds in their hands. Dean doubted there’d be much to see, they’d checked the body out already, and the blood had been cleaned long before they got there, but it was worth checking out the EMF levels in there. They definitely had a spirit on their hands, and an angry one at that. Given that these killings had been going over for more than 150 years, at least they could rule out recent deaths, maybe even deaths that happened after this place became a hospital.

“More ectoplasm in here” Dean gestured to the gloop that was spilling out of the walls near the wet patch of carpet where the scene had been cleared.

“This guy must have some serious unfinished business to take care of.” Sam replied, wrinkling his nose at the blackened wall. Dean gestured to the door and Sam followed him out, making sure the door clicked shut behind him.

“EMF reader’s goin’ crazy in there. Even more than out here.”

Maya turned her attention to Dean, tucking her gun in the back of her pants. “Looks like we’re gonna have a long night of research, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “at least we know this person probably died before this place ever became a hospital, that makes it easier.”

“Library?” Maya suggested.

“Library.” Echoed Sam and Dean in unison.

* * *

 

I found myself in the back seat of Dean’s car again as we made our way to the library. Castiel had left us to it, and gone back to wherever angels come from. Heaven? Did Cas live in heaven? I had so many questions I needed to ask about Mr. Halo, but I figured I’d have to wait until we’d cracked this case before I’d get the chance.

“Pull up here,” I said as the library came into view, “don’t worry about parking, this town don’t read.”

Dean found a space close to the entrance and I deposited my 9mm under the driver’s seat in front of me. Didn’t think I’d be needing that in there.

“Not expecting a fight in there, huh?” Dean’s voice came from behind me. “No murderous librarians? Crazy bookworms?”

“I think we’ll be fine.” I tossed him a smirk and felt a little giddy when he winked in response.

We found a quiet spot near a cluster of computers and got to work. The history of the hospital was easy enough to find. It was built on top of, well, nothing. All that stood there before the hospital was a bunch of grass and trees.

“Not even an Indian burial ground? Not even a cemetery? Not even a god damn house that someone coulda died in.” Dean tossed his newspaper on the desk with a sigh.

“Doesn’t mean no one died there.” I offered, my eyes drifting toward the paper Sam was reading. “Hey, what’s that?” I pointed to the paper and Sam slid it across the desk toward me. “’Wild family found sleeping in Grange Wood’, that’s where they built the hospital!”

Sam sat up, alert. “I doubt they’d have been very happy about them building on their ‘home’” He punctuated the last word with air quotes. “That sounds pretty damn positive.”

Dean perked up at the prospect of finally cracking this case. I wondered if he was just ready to go back home, or wherever it was they went when they weren’t working. “I wouldn’t get too excited, though.”

Sam motioned to the stack of books and papers that we had piled up around us. “We gotta find out what happened. If anything happened.”

I gave a disgruntled sigh. “If they lived in the woods, how the hell are we gonna find their bodies? The paper doesn’t list any names, doesn’t even say how many of them were out there.”

“Maybe we could contact them? Y’know, drag ‘em out of hiding, find out who they are and the bam! We gank ‘em.”

I bit my lip in thought. “That could work, they might not attack again for another ten years, but we might be able to talk them out.”

“Like, Ouija board style?” Sam raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“Like Ouija board style.” “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” I mulled it over. If they responded, it’d be a start, but only that. What if there was more than one spirit roaming the hospital, eternally furious at the destruction of their home? What if they didn’t come? We needed more intel on this family of freaks as a contingency; I doubted it would be easy as we were making it seem.

* * *

 

Dean watched Maya mull it over, her brows furrowed in thought. She turned to Dean. “But… If we found them, it could turn nasty, and I _highly_ doubt that they’ll up give their final resting place for us to salt ‘n’ burn ‘em”.

Sam sighed. “If they even _have_ a final resting place. They could have been cremated, and left something behind.”

Dean had had enough of all this pondering, he was more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. He slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “We won’t be gettin’ anywhere if we don’t try, I say tonight; you two done worrying like a pair of old maids?” Maya tossed him a look, but followed his lead and pushed herself out from under the table. He watched her pull on her jacket, struggling not to look as her vest slid up her stomach when she raised her arms. He managed to pull his eyes away before she noticed and slid past her to take to the lead.

“I say we get some food, get some supplies, you know, like a Ouija board?”

“I got it covered, there’s one in my attic, you know, for special occasions.”

“You ever used it?” Sam asked as they reached the car.

 “God, no.” She smirked, looking pointedly at the brothers. “You know what those things do, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “get in.”

“You wanna ride shotgun?” Sam held the passenger door open for Maya, who accepted without argument. “Riding in the back gives me a headache.”

Dean could smell her perfume as she sat next to him, heady vanilla and tobacco and spice. It had the familiarity of his dad’s old leather jacket. He turned to look at her as she stared out the window, her legs crossed comfortably as though she belonged there, absent-mindedly fingering the fray on her jeans. “Wonder if we’ll be cursed for all eternity after tonight.” She mused, turning her blue eyes on Dean. He gave a gruff laugh. “Think we’re already cursed, toots. Look at our lives.”

She frowned. “Hey, the bad days are _bad_ , but the good days are good. I’ve had some good times on hunts.”

“Sure, I’ve had some good times on hunts, but it had nothing to do with the hunting.” Sam scoffed and Dean turned to smirk suggestively at Maya. She cocked an eyebrow, tongue tracing her top lip. “Oh, me too, handsome, me too.” She turned to the window and didn’t look at him again for the rest of the journey, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

 Dean pulled up on Maya's drive, lining up besides Maya's Jeep. He hopped out first and held the door open, offering a chivalrous hand for her to grip. "I think I got it." she smiled, ignoring the outstretched hand. 

"Suit yourself." 

The huntress slipped past him and to her front door, which opened with a creak. "So, we get the board, we grab some food, and we go. Give me two minutes. Sam, give me a hand in the attic."

"What about me?" Dean pouted. 

Maya shrugged. "What? He's taller?" 

* * *

I heaved myself up through the attic hatch, Sam's pushing me up by my ass. 

"You should really get a ladder." Sam suggested, a smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I have one, this is easier." I grunted, pushing aside a box of old clothes. "Gotcha... Watch out below!" I heard Sam curse as the wooden board crashed onto my carpet. "My turn." I swung my legs through the hatch and felt Sam's strong grip around my legs. 

"There you go." He said as he placed me gently on my landing. I picked up the creepy ass ouija board, blowing off the dust. I hated these damn things, and had no goddamn ideas why any tipsy teenager would think this was a good idea for slumber party hi-jinks.

I made a bee-line for my bedroom. "I'm gonna change real quick, you wanna wait downstairs?" 

"Sure, take your time." Sam replied, making his way back to his brother downstairs. 

"Five minutes!" I yelled to their backs. 

I pulled off my jeans and vest and tossed them in the laundry bin. I threw on a white v-neck and my grey skinnies and slipped on my favourite blush-pink biker jacket. I may be a hunter, but I sure as hell didn't need to dress like one. Plaid? No thanks. Although, I didn't hate the blue plaid Dean had on over his t-shirt. I put on a fresh spray of perfume and headed out- we may be working tonight, but we were eating first, and I wasn't about to be seen out in my vest. I jogged downstairs and fished my keys out of the bowl by my door.

"I'll drive." I stated, not leaving room for debate. I heard Sam laugh and Dean give a surprisingly reserved "Fine." 

 Sam hopped in the back and Dean slid in next to me. I slipped the car into gear and pulled off the driveway. 

"Drive stick, eh?" Dean asked, nodding at the gear stick.

"My dad always did, just his way." I smiled fondly. "He taught me well. Makes quick getaways a little more effort though."

"Yeah, I bet." he laughed, his eyes not leaving my face. "More fun though, right?"

"Most of the time. You guys like Italian? I know the best  _trattoria_ not far from here." 

Sam responded with an immediate 'yes', but Dean screwed his face up. "I was hoping for a burger, but I guess that'll do." 


	4. The Weight of Inevitabilty

Feeling stuffed from dinner and praying I wouldn't have to do any running tonight, I reversed into a parking space and the three of us hopped out of my car. I made my way round the back and lifted up the false bottom of my trunk, grabbing my bag of supplies. Salt. Candles. A ton of iron pokers My 9 mil was tucked reassuringly in the waistband of my jeans. Gotta be prepared.

"You ready, Bill Murray?" Dean asked, taking the bag from my hands.

"Who ya gonna call?" I responded with a grin.

I hoped to every god there was that this went to plan. This kind of thing can turn nasty, I'd seen it first hand and cleaned up the mess more times than I cared. I was glad to have back-up tonight.

I took us inside through the out-patients' entrance, knowing it would be less busy than the main one, and took the long way to the storeroom using back corridors and service elevators. Didn't want anyone asking any questions or placing us at the hospital if anything went awry. My stomach was turning and my palms were sweaty, which was way off for me. It was normally second nature. I had a feeling that something wasn't sitting right with this, and unfortunately I was usually pretty intuitive that way.

We reached the door to the stock room and I paused, hand hovering above the handle. "We got each other's backs, right?"

"Of course." Sam answered, giving me a reassuring smile.

I pushed the door open with a creak and tried the light. Of course, nothing. I fished a flashlight out of my pocket and rested it atop a tall cabinet to shine some light while we unpacked the supplies. The room seemed only slightly more inviting when illuminated by the candles, and I shivered as cold air caressed my skin. I drew a circle of salt and we sat on the floor, encircling the Ouija board, weapons resting in our laps. Dean's hand resting lightly on top of mine on the Planchette. 

"Anyone wanna go first?" I asked, awkwardly, looking between Sam and Dean. The former sighed.

"I'll go." He paused for a few seconds. "Hello?"

"Great start." Dean whispered. I nudged him in response.

"We're looking for someone. Someone who used to live here." 

I looked at the board. Nada.

"We just want to talk, to find out what happened." I offered, gently. "Don't want any trouble. See, someone got hurt here, and we just wanna find out why."

The pointer quivered slightly. 

_H E  D E S E R V E D  I T_

I looked at the brothers. "Why? What did he do?"

_S T O O D  W H E R E  I  S T O O D_

"Come and talk to us, let us see you." Sam pushed, his hand moving for the iron poker.

_T H E Y  T O O K  O U R  H O M E_

"You lived here?" I asked, softly.

"Yes." The pointer hadn't moved this time. The room felt sub-zero and the candles flickered as the voice sounded from behind us. My hand went for my poker. Sam and Dean stood slowly, careful not to disturb the salt line.

"You and your family? How many?" I tried to sound casually.

The figure followed the outline of the circle to the front of us. He looked old, weather worn, his clothes looked ragged and dirty. "My wife. My six children." The voice was eerily soft and cold. "They called us wildlings, they cared for us not a bit. We were civilised, we never harmed a single other. The forest was our home, and they destroyed it."

"So you kill people? People who had nothing to do with the destruction of your home? Like Geoff?" Dean's voice was steady, but had an air of accusation.

"We are angry. Always angry. We had nowhere to live, no place to go. I stole away with some arsenic from the chemists' shelves. We had nothing to live for. They didn't even care to bury us."

Bingo. "What did they do with you? How did they disrespect you?"

The ghost laughed dryly. "They threw us in a heap and burned us." My stomach dropped. That made it harder. Way harder. I watched Sam shuffle his feet forward slightly, his boot scuffing the line of salt.

"Dean." I said, my eyes flitting to the salt line as subtly as I could.

I saw his jaw clench. He moved in front of me. "Look, man. We don't have a real home either, but we don't go round killing people for kicks. We can help you, get you out of this place and give you some peace." he lied, stepping forward. Then everything happened very fast. A gust of wind blew through the windowless room blew away the salt. I saw Dean reach for his salt-round sawn-off and move back to cover me. Seven more pale figures appeared from the walls and I was thrown back against the wall before I could even reach for my iron. I saw Sam thrown against some cabinets next to me. Shots from Dean's gun filled my ears as I struggled against the invisible force pinning me to the wall.

"Dean!" I managed to yell out as a apparition appeared behind him.

"Hey, ugly!" I heard Dean shout, followed by a gun shot. I found myself dropping to the floor with a thud. I dashed to my poker, reaching it just in time to slash away a ghost I assumed was a teenage son of our friendly ghost. I dashed past Sam, pushing him out of the way of young girl and slashing at the air where he chest was.  Another came for me as I made my way to the bag of supplies, and I stuck the poker through his head, watching his smoky figure disappear and reappear a couple of seconds later next to Sam. I fumbled clumsily through my bag, looking for the salt, my head constantly turning to look behind. I felt a cold breeze whoosh past me and I duck and rolled under the table slashing behind me as I stood up

"Sam, Dean! Here! Now! I span round, pouring the salt in a circle big enough for three of us, but before I could finish, it was on the floor beside me, and I was being hauled across the floor toward the wall. We were outnumbered by five, and these guys were angry. I felt a white hot pain sear through my stomach, like I was being gripped by an iron hand that had been in a fire for an hour, and my eyes stung as my head hit the wall behind me. I couldn't move again, and cursed myself for letting my guard down enough that one of them got me. I didn't feel bad for long though, as I watched Dean pulled to ground and disarmed, too. He ended up next to me and Sam was by himself.

"Sam, the gun!" Dean growled, willing Sam to spin round and pick it up. He did, and Dean was released from his invisible chains and free to pick up the poker I'd dropped as I was being used to sweep the floor. With an adept slash to the side of him, I was released and free to find something to arm myself. None of us had any cover, there were too many and we were too close. I couldn't get to either them for dead forest-folk. I saw the dull glint of an iron poker on my left.

"Get to me!" Dean yelled through the noise of the perpetual wind that was howling through the room. How nobody had come down here I had no idea. I dashed toward the poker a few feet away and made my way to Dean, but I felt something pierce though the flesh of my stomach and something warm seep through my shirt. I couldn't even make a sound as I crumbled to the ground.

* * *

 

She'd almost made it back to Dean when the dad-ghost had appeared in front of her. She wasn't looking ahead, her eyes were fixed on the poker on the ground a few feet in front of her.  He had something in his hand, something thin and wooden- a sharpened stick. He tried to call out but the wind took his breath away and with it his words.

He silently watched the spirit plunge his stick through Maya's stomach, and watched her face crumple in confusion before she realised what had happened. He mouth moved but she didn't say a word, she thudded to the ground and the room went quiet.

"Maya?" he heard Sam's voice from behind him and together they rushed to her side.

"Damn it, Sam, he got her."

"Get her up, we gotta get her upstairs. Grab the bag, I got her. " Sam hefted her into his arms and made for the door, Dean a few seconds behind, hurriedly grabbing his gun and her bag.

"Find her car keys, we need to get this stuff back into her trunk." Dean barked, his hand rifling through her black duffel bag.

"Try her coat." Sam offered, taking the stairs two at a time as they rushed up to the emergency room floor.

"Got 'em, I'll meet you in the ER."

Dean didn't look at his brother as they split up at the main corridor, Sam going left, himself going right. He could feel blood trickling from his forehead, warm and wet, and could feel the dull ache of punches in his gut and back, but he headed for the exit at a run. He reached her car in no time, and didn't even bother lifting the false bottom in her trunk, instead he tossed them on top of her spare, warm coat that she kept in the back, and couldn't help smiling briefly at the spare pair of black heels tossed lazily in the back.

She was hunting with them, and they were supposed to watch her back. She was _so_ good when she was fighting, so quick, so strong. She kept up with them the whole time. If it have been him running toward her and not the other way around, he knew that he would have met the same fate that she did, and so would Sam. That made it worse, knowing that she couldn't have even tried to do it differently. He locked her Jeep and headed for the main entrance, where she knew they'd be, his heart pounding in his chest because he knew he was supposed to have her back, and he knew that he couldn't have done a single thing if he'd tried. He slipped his cell from his pocket, breathing heavily as the he listened to the dial tone.

"Hello?"

"Cas? Get down here. We're gonna need you."

 


	5. I'm new to this

Dean sat twiddling his thumbs until he couldn't take it anymore. "Where the hell is that doctor? It's been hours, he snapped, his chair scaping against the polished floor as he stood up.

"Dude, you gotta let them do their job."

He ran a hand through his hair, and screwed his face against the tightness of the butterfly stitches on his eyebrow. "I called Cas."

Sam looked up from his coffee to glance at the door of the ward. "And?"

"Still not here. I don't know if he's gonna show."

"We might not need him, Dean, it might look worse than it is."

"No." he spat, balling his fist. "They're gonna come out here and tell us that she suffered serious blood loss, trauma to whatever organ's nearby and that there's nothing they can do. We were supposed to watch out for her. She didn't even need to be there."

"It's no use thinking like that, Dean, you know that. It sucks when another hunter gets hurt, I get it, but it wasn't our fault, and it wasn't hers, either."

"Yeah, well my brains doin' a great job of tellin' me it is."

They were interrupted by the doctor that had treated him slipping out of an adjacent room and heading toward them.

"Doc?" he heard Sam ask, his tall figure appearing next to him.

He remained silent for a few seconds, looking at both of them in turn. "They took her for surgery while you were being treated. The weapon punctured her liver. She suffered severe blood loss, even in the time it took you to get here. The surgery seemed to have worked, for now, but she needs blood. She's in room 12B, you can see her now, but she may not have come round yet."

Sam nodded, and Dean's jaw tightened.

"Boys." the doctor paused, "We can't guarantee she'll pull through. We're doing all we can."

Dean pushed past the doctor, leaving Sam to shake his hand and say thank you.

She looked pale and tiny in the bed, and Dean's stomach ached with guilt. She was bruised, her face and arms were purple, from hits she probably didn't even feel. He more than likely looked the same.

Sam slipped in behind him and Dean heard him sigh. He pulled Dean up a chair next to the bed and sat himself in one opposite. Dean reached for his cell phone again, anger boiling at Castiel's absence. He left a voicemail and slumped into the cheap plastic chair.

* * *

My insides burned with fire and ice and the same time. My eyes fluttered open, but felt heavy, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold them open for long. That spear had gone in high, if I was feeling this shitty, it must have punctured my liver. If I was alive, it meant they've operated, but I'd seen this so many times. Motorcycle accidents, broken ribs, stabbings, fights, If your liver is punctured and you weren't treated in time, you _would_ die of exsanguination, and even if you were, you still might not pull through. My mouth was dry and my throat was scratchy. I could feel every ragged breath and I couldn't move. I saw Dean sitting in the hard plastic chairs we buy from China for like a dollar, to fill rooms and bays and waiting rooms, and tried to say his name. I felt someone else jump up from my right side when they heard me rasp his name. Sam.Sam was sitting on my other side, I just couldn't turn to face him.

"Hey, doc." Dean breathed, standing awkwardly at my side. "How you feelin'?"

"How do I look?" I managed to whisper.

"Million bucks." Sam answered from my other side. I smiled. My body felt like lead and I was warm and tired and fuzzy. Strangely enough, all that was going through my mind was that Dean looked good enough to eat in his dark plaid and dark jeans with his butterfly stitches and his strong arms crossed across his chest and his brows furrowed in concern and his lingering cologne and his green eyes and I... I felt like I was swimming. I felt _good. High as a kite._ "If you're the last thing I see," I managed a smile, "I would not complain." I think I might have winked, and tried to lick my lips suggestively, because he snorted, but my brain was feeling heavier in my head and the water was getting deeper and I was drifting further away from the edge of the pool. I blinked and then there was someone else in the room. He was wearing a trench coat and he had wings, and I felt fuzzy and laughed because I thought it might have been an angel.

"Cas." I heard Sam and Dean breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"What do you need, Dean?"

"Maya... she... I think she might be dying."

"I am." I quipped, but I don't think anyone found it funny. I did.

"Dean I-"

"I know what you're going to say, Cas. But I need you to do this. We were supposed to be watching her back, but we didn't. This is my fault and we owe her."

There was silence, and I heard ringing in my ears and everything was muffled like I had a pillow over my head. Then I felt warm hands on my chest. My eyes fluttered shut at the comfort and everything felt like warm milk and honey. I felt the weight from my chest leave me and my cuts close up. I could breathe easier, I could move my fingers. Then it was hot. So hot. Hotter than all the suns in all the universes put together and it was inside me. I felt lava replace my blood, a fire replace my heart and I cried out, my throat burning and my body twisting in pain. I felt like my bones were breaking all at once, I heard Dean yell: "Cas" and felt strong arms grip me.

"What are you doing?"

"What _are you doing?"_

"Cas. Stop!"

And then nothing.

And then I felt strong.

 

* * *

 

He didn't know what the hell had just happened to her, but Dean knew she was alright now. Her cuts had gone and her skin was no longer purple. She looked beautiful, glowing, even through the dimmed lights of the ER at night.

"Maya?"

She turned to look at him, blue eyes finding his. "Hey, handsome." She smiled, her fingers grazing the soft fabric of his shirt languidly. She still seemed spaced out.

"How do you feel?" Cas asked, his eyes filled with concern. "I do not know what happened."

"Hey," she whispered, pointing lazily to the angel as though she was drunk. "You're hazy. Kinda red. You feeling ok?"

Cas looked from her to Sam and then to Dean. He moved closer to her.

"And what about Sam? Dean?"

"Um. Red... you're all kinda red right now. But Dean you gotta bit of orange. Sam: blue."

"Aura..." Dean heard Cas mumble. His head shot up.

"Excuse me?" He asked, folding his arms again.

"I fear I may have done more than heal her."

"Uh-oh." Maya whispered. She still seemed hazy, like the drugs hadn't left her system.

"Angels. We can see Auras, if we try. We can see into you, see the colours of your soul and your very being."

Sam sucked in air and Dean felt a prickle of fear up his spine. What the hell had he done?

"She's an angel?" He asked, his eyes darting between her and Cas and Sam.

"No, she is not an angel. But she may have the grace of one."

"Holy shit." Slipped out of Maya's mouth.

"Quite." Cas responded, sinking heavily into Dean's empty chair. 

 

* * *

 

We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the steady buzz of the Emergency Room. Nobody was looking at each other, and I felt restless, eager to move. I remained still, though, and turned my attention to Castiel. 

"Is this... is this... ok?" I asked, shifting a little between the scratchy hospital sheets. 

"I don't know." His brow was furrowed in concentration, and I wondered what he was doing. "I'm listening to my brothers and sisters, to see if anybody has noticed a shift. If you  _do_ have angelic grace, I imagine it would be felt in heaven."  

I looked dumbly at Sam, who was now standing at the foot of my bed. "Angel radio." He said quickly, as if it was a totally normal thing. 

"Right." I looked at Dean, who was leaning against the door of my room. I could see him working this over in his head. 

"So she's walking around with the powers of one of you." It wasn't a question. It sounded accusatory, and for a brief moment I wondered if he was considering that I might end up being something he needed to hunt. "Will she be ok?" he asked eventually, his voice sounding softer and more concerned. 

"I do not know. This... this is not something I've ever experienced before. I have not picked anything up on my...  _angel radio_. They may not realise this happened. We should keep it that way." 

"Why?" I asked dumbly, my arm itching from the IV. 

"They may see you as a threat. This... this is not the kind of thing that they would find acceptable. We must find out what is really going on. We cannot do it here." 

I began detaching the IV and the wires; I felt fine. Weird, but fine. I knew I was healed, and I knew my body was stronger that it had ever been. We needed to sneak out, they knew me here, and I didn't want to be here when they realised I'd discharged myself and made a run for it. 

"We gotta go now." I said firmly. "They'll be doing rounds soon, and if they see I'm suddenly miraculously healed they're going to ask questions. Where's my stuff?" 

Dean pointed to the pile of clothes sitting on an end table, and I slid myself onto my feet. I thought I'd feel unsteady, but I felt totally normal, as if none of this had happened, as if I hadn't been dying ten minutes ago. I picked up my shirt from the pile. 'Yuck." it was covered in blood. "Guess I won't be wearing that." 

"Here." Dean slipped of his plaid shirt and handed it to me. "You'll have to pray your jeans are ok, cause you're not havin' mine." He smirked, and I suddenly felt very aware that I was wearing a hospital gown. 

"Lifesaver. Literally." I smiled, and he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, as if to reassure me that it everything was a-okay, and I hadn't just been given angelic superpowers. 

My jeans  _were_ fine, thankfully, and I slipped into my en-suite to change. I pulled off the hospital gown and stood in the mirror. I looked at my stomach. Where there should have been bruising, and blood and scars, there was nothing. I traced my hand up to where I'd felt the spear go in and there was nothing. No sign that any of this had happened. I looked better than the two brothers did. I pulled on my jeans and my boots and picked up Dean's shirt that was draped on the door handle. It was soft, and still warm, and even though he'd been fighting and sitting and waiting it still smelled faintly of his cologne. I slipped my arms through the sleeves and pulled it round myself. It was too big for me, of course, but I felt safe wrapped in the fabric that smelled like him.  
My hair was a mess, _how dare Castiel not fix my hair,_  I thought, sarcastically, and I pulled into a loose bun using a tie I found in my jeans pocket. I didn't care too much, but I wanted to look normal if I was sneaking out of the hospital and back into the real world. 

"You guys ready?" I asked, closing the bathroom door behind me. 

Dean handed me my coat. "Let's go." 

I pulled it on and placed my self behind Sam and Dean and in front of Castiel. There was nobody outside my room, and the nurses station was busy with charts and visitors so we got to the exit corridor easily enough. The gentle breeze hit me as I stepped out of the hospital, and boy was I glad to feel it. I spent too much time at this hospital, but now I doubted I'd ever see it again. The case was unfinished, but I didn't think Sam and Dean would let me anywhere near it after this, and I was kind of glad. What a pain in the ass this ghost family had been. 

"You wanna let me drive?" Dean's voice snapped me out of my reverie. 

"Can you?" I asked, a smirk on my lips. 

"How dare you." he responded, playfully. 

I patted my jacket pockets for my keys, but a jangling in front of me told me Dean already them. "Watch my clutch." I said, and hopped into the passenger seat, Sam and Castiel in the back. 


	6. Sleep Well

None of us said anything for the car journey back to mine. Dean's eyes stayed fixed on the road, and I felt myself drifting off. Did angels sleep? I didn't think so, which I guessed meant I was still me. I was relieved. I felt anxious, not really understanding what was going on with me, or what had happened, or what was going to happen, and honestly, I needed food and sleep. My stomach rumbled, and Dean turned to look at me.

"You hungry, angel?" He grinned. 

"Starving. Does that mean I'm still human?" 

It was Castiel who answered. "I am fairly certain you are still you. You needn't worry." 

Needn't worry? I laughed internally. I'd been told I'd been given angelic powers somehow, when a week ago I didn't even know angels existed. 

"I just want food and sleep and  _maybe_ a beer. Maybe." Dean pulled onto my driveway, and I'd never felt so glad to see my front door. Dean helped me out of my seat and unlocked my door for us all. I sighed and threw myself down on my couch, pulling off my boots. Sam and Cas sat opposite, and Dean disappeared into the kitchen. I must have drifted off because when he reappeared he was holding a beer and a grilled cheese sandwich. 

I rubbed my eyes. "How long was I out?" I mumbled, sitting upright. 

"How long does it take to make a grilled cheese?" he smiled, setting it down on my coffee table. 

I took a bite. "Mm. Thank you." 

"More than welcome. So, you wanna talk about this now, or later?" 

I pondered for a second, taking a sip of beer. "Now. Then I can sleep easy." 

"Cas, over to you." Sam said, sitting back in his chair. 

"I believe I transferred some of my grace to you when I healed you. I don't know how, but your soul must have been strong enough to accept it." 

I pursed my lips. "But if I have some of your grace, then does that mean you're weaker, now?" 

"Maybe. Only time will tell." 

I thought about it for a moment. "Am I still me? Am I... human? A monster? Will I be dangerous?" 

Dean looked up at this question, as though he had been waiting for it to come. 

Cas smiled, briefly. "I fully believe that you are still you. Just with the powers that come with having grace. You will not be dangerous unless you chose to be, nor a monster." 

"So can I fly?" 

The angel smiled again. "We do not fly, as you imagine it. You may be able to heal yourself and others. You may be invulnerable to any physical damage... you may be able to...smite." 

I stared at Cas, my mouth agape. "'Like _smite me oh mighty smiter_ smite?" 

"Excuse me?"

Dean chipped in. "Bruce Almighty, Cas, it's a movie. Don't worry about it." He turned to me. "Yeah, just like that." 

"Shit. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" 

"I say we test Cas' theory, see if you've actually got some angel mojo. Then, we keep an eye on it, keep it on the _DL_." 

* * *

 

Dean let everybody pile inside Maya's place, and headed straight for the kitchen. He heard their muffled voices as he rummaged through the kitchen to find bread and cheese. He stood over the stove-top, minding racing: relieved Maya was back with them, guilt that it was his own fault she got hurt in the first place, anxious for what this was going to mean for her safety.  He pulled a couple of beers from the fridge and took a long pull. She was their concern now, they couldn't leave her on her own with all this power. Would the angels find out? Would they come after her? His chest burned and every move bought a flash of sharp pain in his chest: how did this case go so wrong? He plated up Maya's grilled cheese and grasped the beers between his fingers, nudging the kitchen door open with his shoulder. 

Dean smiled at how much Maya's face lit up when she saw the sandwich. 

"Mm. Thank you." 

He waved a nonchalant no problem and she gave him a smile that made his stomach flip. His eyes kept finding hers throughout the whole conversation, and it was then that he decided that she was never going to leave their sides. She could come to the bunker, there was plenty of space. She'd be great on hunts, if she was up for it. He could make her all the grilled cheeses she wanted and he could watch out for her, always, as long as she needed. He needed. 

"I say we test Cas' theory, see if you've actually got some angel mojo. Then we keep an eye on it, keep it on the  _DL._ " 

"How easily can they find me?" Maya asked quietly, her focus fixed on Cas.

"Without warding, very. _With_ warding, it will be a struggle for them. Unless they know your exact location, they will not be able to hone in on you."

"We better sort that out ASAP, Cas." Sam said, his voice serious.

"Angel warding, huh?" Maya's brow furrowed. "Is that like, an anti-possession tattoo?" 

Dean's mouth twitched into a small smile. She had an anti-possession tattoo? He wondered where it was. 

"Uh. Kind of. Except internally." 

Maya shuddered. "Ouch." 

"You will be safe for tonight. We can arrange for you to be warded tomorrow, if you wish. Sam, Dean, Maya, I feel I should return to heaven, just to make sure that no word has gotten out about this."

Dean felt a pang of anger. "You're gonna leave us? Tonight of all nights?" 

He felt a warm hand on his leg. "Cas is right, Dean. We need to know what's going on up there. Just...  _please_ be back in the morning. This is kind of crazy for me." Maya threw a warm smile Cas' way, and he disappeared. 

Sam stood up, stretching into a yawn. "I'm gonna get the angel blades out of the trunk, Dean. Just in case." 

"Hey, Sam?" Maya said, her voice tired and heavy. "If you're ready to hit the hay, second room on the right, next to the bathroom. I think we all need a better night's sleep than my couch. " 

"Thanks, Maya. You feeling ok?" 

"Just tired." She smiled 

Sam nodded. "Night, Maya. Dean." 

Dean looked at her, wondering whether or not she was edging to go to bed, too. She must have understood because she slid her legs onto the couch and took a pull on her beer. "Can't leave these, can we?" 

Dean relaxed into his chair a little, with arms and legs feeling like lead, comfortable drowsiness taking over his body. 

"So... do you really feel ok? Not just sayin' that?" 

"I feel fine. Honestly, truly, completely fine." She smiled again, she smiled a lot, Dean noticed. From the eyes as well, not just her mouth like he or Sam or Cas did so often nowadays. "Anxious, but fine. Tell me about this warding, then." 

"That's what you wanna talk about? Angel tattoos?" 

"I wanna know what I'm getting myself into here, boy. If this is going to be like one of those times you're at a bachelorette party and get so drunk off tequila you think it's a good idea to get snoopy tattooed on your back, I am  _not_ game. " 

Dean blinked. "You didn't." 

Maya snorted. "Of course not. Although I  _was_ at the bachelorette party where someone got so drunk off tequila they thought it was a good idea to get snoopy tattooed on their back. Stone cold sober. Hunting a shifter." 

"Wow." 

"Oh, yeah. Pretty wild, huh." 

"So the warding. Cas uses enochian sigils that'll keep you hidden from any angel, even Lucifer, so he says." 

"Lucifer, no shit." 

"Sam and I have the sigils on our.. ribs." 

"What? Your ribs? How in the hell?"

"Dunno, man, Cas just works his mojo and boom, instant angel repeller."

"And it works?" 

"So far. Why d'ya think he has a cell phone?"

"This is crazy. Like, seriously the weirdest situation I've ever been in, and that's saying something..." Maya paused for a moment, adjusting her position so she was facing Dean head on. Her leg grazed his, and he found himself wishing it would stay there, longing for the warmth and comfort of being close to someone. "So how did you end up with an Angel on your team?"  

Dean cleared his throat. "I said Sam and I had been to hell, right?" She nodded. "Sam... died. A story I'll save for another night, but I couldn't... I couldn't leave him, I couldn't let him be dead. I, um, I made a deal with a crossroads demon, and ended up in the pit." Dean chanced a look at Maya's reaction. Her face was soft, her brow furrowed in gentle sympathy. He didn't know how much to tell her, about the rack and the things he'd done. He didn't want to risk scarring her away. "Anyway, four months later, I found myself back up top, alive and kicking. Cas saved me." 

"Oh, my... Dean." Her hand found its way onto his leg again. "Thats... that's... not what I expected. That's... crazy." He felt her squeeze his leg gently, the warmth spreading to his whole body. "How have you been through so much, and still be able to...do this?"

"I don't think I could have survived if I didn't have this. This job don't give you time to think. That's a good thing." 

Maya didn't say anything else, but she kept her hand resting on Dean's leg, occasionally taking a swig of her drink, and eventually letting her rest against the couch, her blue eyes drifting shut. Dean took the empty beer bottle from her hand, and slid her into his arms. Knocking the light off behind him, he carried her upstairs, setting her gently down in her own bed. He closed the door behind him and padded across the landing to the spare room. 

 


	7. Never Normal

I awoke to find myself in my own room, sunlight slipping in through a crack in the blinds. Dean must have brought me up after dropped out. I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, still wearing Dean's shirt. I felt so much better after sleeping, and every little human thing I did, eat, drink, sleep, reassured me that I was still  _me._ There was a rap at the door just as I reached the bathroom, and I heard Dean's muffled voice through the door. 

"Maya? You up?" 

"Let yourself in." I shouted back, turning on the faucet. 

I watched him lean casually against the doorframe while I finished up in the bathroom. "I spoke to Sammy last night, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about somethin'." 

I dried my face with a towel and threw it into the bathtub behind me. "Should I be worried?" I cocked my eyebrow. 

"Maybe." A smirk played across his lips. I sat down on the edge of my bed and Dean followed suit. 

"Ok, hit me." 

"We were thinking, about this whole... angel thing. We have a bunker, it's where we pitch up when we're not workin'." 

"A bunker?" I asked. 

"Yeah, I'll explain, but later. Look, we don't think you're safe here, not with everythin' that's happened..."

"Are you asking me to come with you?" I started to feel anxious.

"Maybe. Just until... you know. There's plenty space. You'd get your own room, your own space, everythin'. I just-" 

"Feel responsible for all this?" I finished. "You don't have to, Dean." I put my hand on his broad shoulder. "This isn't your fault, nor Sam's. You saved me. I wouldn't be here without you, angel powers or not." 

"I know... I do. I just... we don't know what's gonna go down if the angels find out about you. We thought you'd be safer with us." 

I couldn't speak for a moment. I had a life here, a house, a job. Well, a job until yesterday. What Dean was saying made sense, but I didn't have an answer for him. 

"Dean, I-" 

"You don't need to answer right away. Just think about it." His hand found mine and he gave it a gentle squeeze before standing up. "That shirt looks good on you." he said, and pulled the door shut behind him. 

 He left me staring at the wall. Could I leave my home? Where was the bunker? Why was it a bunker? Dean was right, of course, I definitely needed them right now. I had no experience with angels whatsoever, and god knows what I'd do if they found me. I thought about Sam and Dean, too. If I let them go on without me, would I ever see them again? Would we just go on with our lives as normal? And Dean: smart, handsome, witty Dean. With his plaid and his green eyes and his '67 Chevy Impala. I felt connected to him, whether it was friendship or something else I didn't know, but I knew I didn't want him to leave and never see him again. I had to decide. What did I have left here? No family, no real friends, no-one to miss me if I left. Now I had the chance to have family again, have friends. I made my way to my dresser. I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and slipped out of Dean's shirt and into a grey vest. I couldn't bring myself to hand it back to him yet, so I put it on over my top like a jacket, rolling up the sleeves so I wasn't so swamped. _Well, he said I looked good in it._

 

The brothers were sitting at the dinner table when I eventually got downstairs. There was a fresh pot waiting for me and I sat down next to Sam. 

"You guys are right. I need you: I don't know shit about angels. I also like you guys, a lot, and honestly, it feels good to have friends..."

"So?" Dean raised his eyes expectantly. 

"So... I'd like to come with you guys. At least until we figure out what the hell is going down. Why should I resign myself to being alone just because I'm a hunter?" 

Dean beamed in a way that made my breath catch in my mouth, and Sam draped his arm around me. 

"Well thank god, we've been looking for a doctor." He joked. 

 

* * *

 

Dean beamed. He didn't expect her to agree so readily, he thought she'd take some convincing. He wanted to keep her safe, and he knew the only way he could that would be sticking by her side. 

"I'd rather go sooner rather than later, guys." Maya smiled, a little sadly. "Makes it easier. I'll just pack what I need and we can go. Where is this bunker, anyway? And why do you have a bunker?" 

"Lebanon, Kansas, and it's a bit of a long story." Sam said.

"It belonged to an organisation called The Men of Letters. They were kind of a Supernatural research centre. Turned out our Grandaddy was tryna become a member- that is, until it was wiped out." 

"And you decided you wanted to kickstart it again? How many members you got?" 

"Uh. Me and Sam, that's two. So... two." 

"Ah. Still growing, huh?" 

"Hey, we got an entire bunker all to ourselves, why would we want anybody else?" Dean smiled. 

"Good point. I'm gonna get some stuff together, then we can move. I'm not leaving my truck behind, so I guess I'll have to follow you there. Promise we can stop for food en route though? Six hours without food is too long." 

"It's not that long." Sam smirked.

Dean looked at him in mild disgust. "You kiddin' me? We haven't had breakfast! Burgers'r on me, angel." 

I bobbed my tongue out at the oldest brother. "See." 

Maya sighed and finally stood up.  "Okay. Let's do this. You wanna give me a hand, Dean? I have something I think you'll find interesting." She smirked, a cheeky glint in her eye. 

"I'm intrigued." 

Dean expected her to lead him upstairs, but instead she went back into the hallway and stopped outside a door under the stairs. "You need to help me decide what to take." 

She swung the door open and flicked on a light switch, but let Dean go first. It was the stairwell to her basement, and the hunter felt a little surge of excitement. He was right to. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the harsh basement lights illuminated shelves and shelves of hunting gear. Shotguns, salt rounds, neat little 9mm pistols, a row of what looked like AK-47s, and a collection of knives and swords that even he was a little envious of. 

"Damn. You're packing some serious heat." 

She smiled. "A lot of this is stuff my dad collected over the years. Not sure about the assault rifles, though." She bit her lip. "Could be fun, though. Load em up with silver bullets or something." 

"You read my mind. You sure you don't just wanna take all of this?" He winked.

"Nah. Some of these are just spares. Don't think we need to take four shotguns." 

"Agree to disagree, sugar. We could make em into sawn offs. Always like a good sawn-off." 

Hand on hip, Maya pointed to a cabinet in the corner of the room." 

"Goddamnit." 

"There're duffle bags in the cupboard. Get sorting." 

They spent a good hour sorting through Maya's stash, her telling him stories about where things came from, what they were used on. Dean couldn't help but think Maya's dad sounded like a badass, and he knew something about badasses. They didn't leave much behind, but decided some essentials should stay, in case she ever needed to go back there. Without them. 

* * *

 

In barely a day my entire life was packed into the trunk of my car. I was shocked at how easily my entire life was boxed up and loaded into my truck. My little life, loaded up and ready for a road trip. 

"You ready? You got the address in case you lose us?" Sam asked. 

I was going to follow their lead, but I wasn't sure that we'd be able to stay in convoy the whole way. 

"Yep. Address in my phone, map in the back seat, I'm ready to go." I smiled. "Dean, I'll call you when I'm hungry."

I saw Sam look at me with gentle concern. "You sure you're alright? This is- this is a big thing..."

"I know, but I also know that what you boys were saying is right. If the angels do come, how the hell would I defend myself? I've never admitted to needing anyone in my life, but guys... I do need _you."_

They both offered an understanding nod. "We're gonna go get in the car. Whenever you're ready, Maya." Sam held the door open for his brother, and they filed out towards the Impala. 

 _Breathe._ I told myself. _This isn't a big deal. You're a hunter. Your life was never normal. Travelling around? Settling in new places? That's the hunter's life._  I thought about my dad, my job, this house, the one I'd made my own, the one with the carpets, the wallpaper, the drapes I'd chosen. The one that smelled like my coffee and my perfume and my washing powder. My eyes stung and my chest felt tight. I may not be leaving people behind- family, or close friends, but this  _was_ my life. I took a couple of steadying breaths and sat down on my bottom step, taking in feel and smell of my house one last time. I started when the door creaked open. Dean's head popped round the door. 

"I came to check if you were  _really_ alright." 

I looked up at him, but didn't say anything. He gripped my hand and pulled me into a tight hug, I felt his warmth seeping into my skin, found comfort in his smell. He placed a kiss on the top of my head and held me at arms length. "You've got this, angel, I know you do. I know it sucks, the bunker's a bit of a downgrade from this palace you got goin' on here, but it's safe, it's comfortable, I do laundry."  

I snorted, snaking my arm around Dean's back, letting him guide me to the door. I locked my front door for the last time, and he squeezed my arm before slipping into the impala. "Call me when you're feelin' like a bacon double and your wish'll be my command. Drive safe, Maya." 

I slipped into my truck and watched the two brothers pull off the drive. I put the car in first, and watched as my old life disappeared in my rear-view mirror. 


	8. New Beginnings

"Hello?"

"Anyone fancy a _royale with cheese?"_ Maya's voice came from the loudspeaker.

 _"_ Or,  _Le Big Mac?'_ Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes at the Pulp Fiction reference, but pulled out a map to see what was coming up. 

"There's a town about a half hour away. We could probably haul up there for the night if you're tired. That okay?"

"Ba-con dou-ble, bacon dou-ble." Maya's tone was sing-song.  

"You holding up alright?" Dean asked, brow furrowed.

"Bored. Okay though, thanks. See you in 30."

The car fell silent again as call cut off, and Dean's concentration went back to the road ahead, damp and shimmering in the early evening light. 

 

*

 

"Um...I'll take a bacon double cheeseburger with fries, and a sprite... oh, and a side of onion rings, please. Thanks." Maya slid the menu back, watching Dean lean back languidly against the booth.  
"That last half hour dragged. Boy am I hungry."  The waitress came and set down the drinks.

"Ugh, you and me both. Always tastes better when someone else is buying, too." Maya winked at Dean, who was now sipping coke. 

"How was your journey, must've been nice to have some company, huh?" 

Dean scoffed. "Who? Sam? Pfft. He was asleep until you called." Sam responded with a punch on the arm from across the table. 

"Oh, really? Interesting."

"I wasn't asleep the _whole_ time." Sam said defensively.

"Sure, Sam, sure." Maya gave him a playful nudge, Dean watching the smile that played across her lips as she bantered. She seemed okay, or as okay as she could be at the moment. He thought that once she'd seen the bunker, she'd feel less anxious. She said herself she wasn't leaving much behind, but he knew it was still rough for her. They had a tonne of stuff to sort out- the powers? They still hadn't tested Cas' theory that she'd been given angelic powers when she was healed, and they hadn't heard from the angel since it happened. He didn't mind though, at that moment in time he was just happy that she was there with them, that they hadn't had to drive away without her and never see her again. That he could wake up every morning and see her. 

 

* * *

 

Our waitress set down the food and I took a sip of my sprite. "We still haven't heard from Cas. What do you think's going on?"

Dean scrunched up his face. "God knows. I've tried callin', but nothin'."

"Thought he might have realised how much we needed him to come back. For one, I'm still angel bait."

"Maya's right, Dean, we gotta find him. She's gotta be warded." 

I cocked my head. "I wonder if I could talk to him- you know,  _angel radio_ and all that..."

Dean looked up from his food. "Have you heard anything so far? Picked up any transmissions, so to speak?" 

"Not that I know of. But maybe if I focus real hard I might be able to hear something." 

"Yeah, and get a nosebleed." Dean put down his burger and picked up his cell. "Let's try this the less Sixth Sense way first, huh?" 

 I watched as Dean put the phone to his ear, and roll his eyes a couple of seconds later as it went straight to voicemail. 

'Ok, let me try!' I put my fingers to my temples and shut my eyes like a low grade psychic, but Dean quickly batted my hands away from my face. 

'Maybe not here, genius. And maybe don't do the whole charade, either.' 

I cut my eyes. 'Spoil sport.' 

'Eat your onion rings.' 

*****

I sat in the back seat of the impala, both the Winchester's eyes set firmly on me. I closed my eyes, and thought hard about Castiel. His voice, his face, the aura I saw surrounding him at the hospital. The traffic was a dull hum which quickly dissipated into complete, deafening silence. 

_Nephillim?   Powerful energy...   Castiel...   Find out.   Someone lay with... a human?   Halfing, it'll be the end of us all._

I tried to focus harder. I needed to transmit, not receive _._

_Castiel? Cas? It's Maya... can you hear me? Cas?_

_'Maya?'_

_'Cas! Where have you been? Are you alright?'_

_'I'm quite alright. Just... busier than I expected.'_

_'You said you'd be back.'_

_'I am sorry, Maya. I didn't think I'd be here this long.'_

_'We're headed to the bunker, can you meet us there tomorrow? And why won't you answer your phone?'_

_'I will do my best. Phones don't work too well in heaven, Maya, I presumed that would be obvious.'_

_'My bad. Catch you later.'_

I blinked my eyes open and tried to bring myself back to reality. The brothers were still staring at me, their brows furrowed in concern. 

"Did that work?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "It was  _so_ weird. I could hear so many voices at the same time, but couldn't really make out what they were saying. I kept hearing... _Nephillim,_ and  _halfling?"_

"Nephillim, I've seen that word somewhere." 

"I've read about them." I bit my lip. "But not in a lore book..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "In what?"

"I was kind of obsessed with young adult fiction when I was a little younger... stories about half angels, half humans. Fallen angels falling in love with humans..."

"So, trash?" Dean smirked at me.

I gasped. "How dare you." 

"Guys." Sam interrupted. "You picked up talk of a nephillim? Do you think that's coincidence?"

I fidgeted in my seat. "No, I don't. You think they felt what happened? I heard 'powerful energy' thrown around. Maybe they think I'm nephil?" 

Dean looked uncomfortable. "Look, let's just wait till we can talk to Cas, huh? Let's not get too many ideas. You haven't told us what he said, did you reach him?" 

"Yep. He said he'd been 'busier than he expected', he should be meeting us at the bunker tomorrow."

"I say we get a room here for the night, crack the last five hours in the morning." 

Dean and I nodded our agreement, and I slid out out of the Impala's back seat into the warm evening air. Dean wound down the window, arm resting on the door. "Stick behind us, there's gotta be a crappy motel somewhere round here." 

"Nothing  _too_ crappy," I pleaded, "I do want a decent night's sleep." 

"Beggars can't be choosers, toots." 

"We're not exactly beggars, Dean, pick something nice." 

* * *

 I don't know what I was expecting from a bunker, but the word itself didn't provoke too much excitement. This, though, this was incredible. It had an art-deco feel, inviting and nostalgic. It felt warm, lived in. I was half expecting some cold war relic, canned peaches, scratchy blankets and dusty concrete flaws. Instead, there were warm lights, shelves upon shelves of books, boarding school style bedrooms. Sam had said it was pre-war, built in the thirties.

"This... this in an extremely pleasant surprise." 

"What? Some of the motels hunters stay in, and you were worried about a bunker?" Dean tossed a couple of my bags down the table in what looked like a War Room. Sam shuffled down the balcony stairs a few seconds later, loaded up with more of my stuff.

I shrugged. "Bunker sounded kind of scary..." 

"This place is paradise, sugar, believe me. Safest place you could ever be."

"Yep." Sam pointed to the heavy door on the balcony above us. "Only way in. There's layers and layers of warding- if an angel or a demon wants to get in, it needs the key." 

"And I'm guessing you don't hand those out to just anybody, huh?" 

"Especially not those black-eyed freaks." Dean crinkled his nose in exaggerated disgust. 

I slowly padded through to the library, fingers tracing the grains of a long wooden table, relishing the atmosphere of the place. The yellow warmth of the lamps; the smell of the old, leather bound books; the echo of my footsteps on the wooden floor. 

"You wanna pick a room?" Dean appeared behind me, arms laden with boxes. 

"Are they all the same?" 

Dean paused for a moment. "Yep." 

"Then I'll take whichever." I smiled, and trailed behind him to my new room. 

"Few doors down from mine, you know, just in case." He winked, setting down the boxes.

"Thanks, stud, I'll remember that." 

The room was pretty small, a double bed filling most of the space, but it felt cosy and safe. The dark walls and lack of windows made it feel a little cramped, but I figured I could fix that, with the guys' permission. 

"Glad I didn't bring that third suitcase..." 

"Yeah... like I said, downgrade." 

"Come on, Dean." I put my hands on his shoulders. "This works for me, the amount of stuff I've hauled up here, it'll feel like home in now time."

Dean stood uncomfortably in the doorway, looking lost without the cover of the boxes. 

"Hey, I want you know how grateful I am to you for doing this for me. You didn't have to, you didn't have to invite me up here; you could have just left me to deal with this crap myself. You didn't. Yeah, my bedroom may be a little smaller, a little less bright, but now I have you and Sam, too. I'd rather have a small bedroom and you two than all the space in the world and nobody to share it with."  I meant what I was saying, and I wanted him to know that. At that moment, I couldn't care less about the size of my room. I had family now.  
I cupped his cheek. "Thank you. For all you've done for me. You've done more for me in a week than anybody's done for me in my whole life. I'm  _so_ excited to spend time with you and Sam, to have partners in crime. I'm so excited that I get to see  _you_ everyday..." 

I let the words linger for a moment, but dropped my hand from his face. "Let's do this, hey? Go out, kick monster butt, take each day as it comes. It's exciting." 

"You sure?" he looked uncertain.

"Yep." I said brightly, giving him the biggest smile I could muster.

"Real cute. You oughta get unpacking, I'm making grilled cheese."  

 

 


	9. Testing The Waters

Dean left Maya in her room, fussing over where to put her shoes. He thought about what she'd said, the way she'd touched his cheek. She meant it, he thought, she was genuine. That smile she gave him made his chest tighten. There was still a part of him, though, a cynical, nagging part of him that tugged at him, telling him she wasn't going to be happy here. Still trying to convince him that it was his fault. 

"Hey, everything ok?" Sam's voice pulled Dean from his reverie, and he found himself standing in the middle of the library. 

"Uh... yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "All good. Maya's chosen her room... just settling in. Thinks it's a little cramped." 

"I doubt she minds, Dean. Besides, if she decides to stay here for good, you'll be surprised how much improvement a coat of paint'll do." 

"Alright,  _Extreme Makeover: Bunker Edition,_ thanks for tip." 

Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, all I'm sayin' is that it's easy enough for her to make this place feel more like home. It's not like she's gonna be stuck in a dark, cramped bedroom, then decide she can't take it anymore and leave, if that's what you're worried about. She can fix it. Not a big deal." 

Dean tried to look blasé. "Why would I care about that? If she wants to leave when all of this is over, she can." 

His brother couldn't stifle a smirk. "Sure, Dean, I believe you, but what I said still stands, man." 

_Ass,_ he thought to himself. 

*** 

"Dean. Cas's coming." Maya poked her head round the library doorway.

"Huh?"

"I dunno. I just know." 

Dean nodded his head towards the bunker entrance as an invitation to follow him, and Maya did. She'd changed to sweatpants now, and a Biggie Smalls t-shirt, which he chose to ignore, her hair braided and resting on her shoulder. 

"Hot date tonight?" he teased. 

"Shut up, I was unpacking."

"So your spider-senses tingling?" 

"Kind of. I just-" Maya stopped short as the heavy bunker door swung open. " _No fucking way."_ she whispered, watching an angel in a trench coat descend the stairs in front of them. 

"Dean, Maya." 

The Winchester blinked dumbly. "You were right." 

Cas look at both of the hunters in turn, squinting slightly. "Right?" 

"Maya knew you were coming, spidey senses or somethin'." 

The angel looked at him like that was obvious. "That is not surprising, if she possesses grace, she would be able to sense my arrival." 

"Now that... that could be handy." 

Dean's jaw tightened. "Where have you been, Cas? Maya's been wondering around as angel bait for days, with no idea what the hell is going on. You didn't even call." 

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas said simply. 

"Sorry? How-" 

"Dean." Maya's hand found the small of Dean's back. "It's okay. He's got his reasons, I'm sure. And look at me, I'm fine- nothing bad happened in the time he was away."

"It coulda." he spat.

"Dean." 

* * *

In Dean's defence, he tried to look contrite, but there was still a trace of irritation set in his face. 

"We know you can use the... angel radio... and we know you can sense others. Have you tested anything else?" 

I smiled. "The only people besides Sam and Dean I've seen in the past few days are diner waitresses and motel receptionists, not really had an opportunity to practice smiting." 

"Of course. I expect that will come in due course, perhaps on a hunt." 

"That'll make jobs a hell of a lot easier." 

Dean was silent, still. 

"What other mojo might I have?" 

The angel shifted uncomfortably. "You may be invulnerable to damage... but I doubt anybody would wish to test that willingly."

"Again, that'll make jobs a hell of a lot easier." My head was cocked as I looked at Cas. "So, what are the chances that everything you can do, I can do? You know, being as though we already know I got already seem to have  _some_ angelic powers." 

His response was delayed. "I would find it odd if you only received  _some_ angelic attributes. I would hasten to say that yes, everything I can do, you could do." 

I looked at Dean, whose body language had shifted from gruff and irritated to more relaxed and hopeful. "So, if we can get her warded, she's gonna be a lot safer than she was before, right? On hunts, she's basically the cheerleader from _Heroes_?" 

"I don't know this cheerleader, but I suppose she would be a lot more difficult to injure, or kill." 

I expect he didn't think I'd noticed the change in his demeanour, in his tone, but I could basically see the tension stripped from his body. The notion had crossed my mind a few times- how much stronger, how much safer I'd be on hunts, but I wondered why it had only just crossed Dean's. I guess he was too focused on the threat of the Angels to think about any of the positives. 

"Where's Sam?" Cas enquired. 

"Gone to pick up something to eat, he shouldn't be long." Dean said, pulling a chair for me, sitting himself in the next one along.

"Good. Heaven was awash with rumours about what happened the night Maya was saved, I thought you'd like to hear them." 

***

By the time Sam got back with dinner I was starving, and Dean was impatient to hear was going on in Heaven. 

I loaded up a chopstick with noodles. "So. What's going on up there? Do they know?" 

"There was an immense surge of power when you received grace. They felt it upstairs, but didn't know what it was. I asked around... they are thinking nephillim- a child of an angel and a human."

"So, not on the mark completely." Sam said, his eyes now on me. "They know  _something_ happened, but they don't know that  _you_ happened. You might be safe." 

"Yeah... they're gonna be looking for same halfling kid, running around with earth-destroying powers, not for you." Dean seemed optimistic, his eyes flashing. "You might be off the hook." 

"While I would agree that the angels do not know to look for you, we cannot let our guard down. You need to be warded, and we need to keep a low profile." 

"Maybe we should lay off the hunts for a while- stay in the bunker." 

I pressed my lips together. "I dunno, Dean, that doesn't really seem fair on any of us?" 

"I dunno, My. Can't get any safer than in here, why risk it?" 

I gave him an imploring look. "I can't be cooped up in here by myself. You can't go waltzing off on cases and leave me behind all the time." 

He sighed in resignation. "We can't risk taking you out there, My- we'll get you warded, but that don't mean they won't find you. Why take that chance when we know you'll be safe here?" 

"Maybe you didn't have to stay in here 24/7... we can't expect you to stay locked up in here like a prisoner. But popping into town is a lot less dangerous than traversing the country, staying in barely warded motel rooms." Sam said gently. 

My eyes shifted to Dean, his forehead crinkled, all the tension back in his body again. I thought about earlier, the way he stood so awkwardly in my doorway, worrying that he'd ruined my life. I knew he cared about me, wanted me safe, but I couldn't tell whether it was because he felt obliged to, or at best because I was a friend, and friends watched out for each other. Now though, I saw it differently. He didn't just want to keep me safe for me, he wanted to keep me safe for  _him._ My hand found his leg under the table, and I let it rest there for a moment before giving it a gentle squeeze and letting go. He didn't look at me, but I watched as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

 Cas stood up rather suddenly, his eyes focused on me. "We should get you warded. As soon as possible." 

"Can I finish my noodles first?" 

"I...yes. Sorry." 

I finished my food as quickly as I could, and followed Cas into the library. 

"This may be a little uncomfortable." The angel gave me an apologetic look. 

I shrugged. "I think I'll survive." 

Cas placed a hand on my chest, and I felt a burning spread from his fingers to my ribs. I let out a small gasp. 

"There. Unless they know exactly where you are already, no angel will be able to locate you." 

I rubbed my chest. "Thanks, Cas." 

"Feel any different?" Dean was leaning casually in the doorway. 

"Oh, loads different. Like a whole new person." 

He smiled. "That should keep you safe. Well, until one of them actually sees you coming out of a restaurant or the grocery store..."

"Hey... way to be optimistic." 

He smiled again, only this time it was pained. "Optimism is a luxury we've never been afforded, angel." 


	10. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter per se, just a brief interlude to connect the time frames. Enjoy!

 Week One

We did exactly as Cas said, laid low. Sam and Dean decided, with no input from me other than intense objection, that I should stay in the Bunker. The boys didn't even hunt much, just picking up the occasional local case. They got word of a Ruguru in Amarillo, and for the first time I was completely on my own. Dean texted me in the mornings, at lunchtime, dinnertime and just before he went to bed. He reviewed every meal to me, every burger, every pancake. He shared details of the case. He was trying to keep light-hearted, not daring to remind me that I was stuck in a pre-war bunker completely alone. I couldn't bring myself to stay locked up in that place completely, so on the Wednesday I drove into town to pick up some groceries, Dean's angel blade never leaving my person.  On Thursday I spent all day in the kitchen, preparing meals to put in the freezer. It was a welcome distraction, and I praised myself for my efficiency. On Friday, they came back, a little bruised, but alright, and I felt normal again. 

 

Week Two, Thursday

The boys didn't take another job right away, and we fell straight back into our familiar routine. My sweet-tooth led me to the kitchen to make cheesecake, brownies, banana bread- all my mom's recipes. Sam stood over my shoulder, trying to pick up the recipe, helping me the stir the batter and pulling things from the oven. Dean sat at the table, reading, all the while the inviting aroma of baking filled the kitchen and made our mouths water. On Thursday evening, my bedroom door burst open and in strolled Dean, black t-shirt, dark jeans, a plate full of cheesecake and brownies and two forks. He made me watch  _On The Waterfront._  We sat on my bed, bare arms touching, Dean's running commentary making me smile and laugh until I eventually fell asleep five minutes from the end. I didn't feel him leave, but when I woke up the following morning he was gone, the scent of him still imprinted on my pillow. 

 

Week Six, Monday

Every morning I woke up feeling more and more suffocated, the stifling walls of the bunker becoming my own personal prison. The brother's had gone witch-hunting and weren't due back until Wednesday. I called Cas. He didn't pick up right away, but an hour later the high-pitched ringing of my cell from the library table told me he got my message. He showed up five minutes later, an angel blade and a large pepperoni pizza in his hand. We went into the garage, me in my sweats, him still clad in his suit and trench coat, and I lunged and parried, desperately trying to preempt his movements and not get my ass completely handed to me. These training sessions had become a permanent weekly fixture, and I was always rewarded with a slice of pepperoni pizza when I'd finished. 

 

Week 9, Saturday

The old band was back together again; Cas had thought it a good idea to test out some of my  _powers_ a little further. The four of us were stood just outside the bunker entrance, the bright morning sun warming our faces. Cas told me to think about that old abandoned gas station about a mile up the road, to really focus on it. Cas disappeared a few seconds later, but when I opened my eyes, I was still stood outside the bunker, Sam and Dean smirking at me. Cas decided that because I was truly a human, not an angel with a vessel, flight was  _not_ going to be one of my little tricks. I was a little disappointed, but at least it made me a little less freaky. We all filed down to the garage, where Sam had placed a load of random objects, well away from the cars upon Dean's request, which I found myself making fly all around the room, smashing into walls, sliding off tables and crashing onto the floor. With my mind. Cas made me try it on him, assuring me it wouldn't hurt him at all, and within a second he was pinned up against the garage door, Sam and Dean sniggering.  

Week Eleven, Friday

I spent another few days alone, leaving the bunker only to pick up supplies and take a breath of real, fresh air. The boys weren't due back for another couple days, and I found myself aching for their company, for the sound of footsteps other than my own, and more than the background noise of the TV I kept on at all times to break the silence. I was reading in the Library when I heard the bunker door open, and the sound of my two boys bickering as they descended the stairs. They were wielding paper bags from the local store- picnic supplies, they told me. I was taken aback by their display of sweetness, but remembered they probably felt almost as bad as I did about me being locked up in here. We drove to a nearby park, and sat on the grass by the little duck pond, watching the world go by. Dean and I sitting close, our thighs touching, his hand occasionally grazing my skin as he moved, the smell of his cologne in the sweet summer air a heady perfume. We talked about music, him ignoring my secret obsession with hip-hop and choosing to focus on Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, questioning me on Joy Division, The Smiths and The Cure. The aching I felt in my bones, the tiredness, the tightness I felt in my chest every morning slipped away, my smile was genuine, and I felt like I could breathe again. They didn't spend too much time away from the bunker, but it was enough. The times they were there though, the few days out of every week where I heard other voices, other footsteps, had become some of my favourite memories. We'd become thick as thieves, Dean and I especially, and the thought of them swanning off for hunts was becoming harder and harder to swallow. It made my stomach ache and my eyes sting. I didn't know how much longer I could do this. 


	11. Spring Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to be a long one! I hope you guys like having more to read, I'm never sure whether to do longer chapters or lots of shorter one!. I'd love to hear your feedback so far, and love to know if you like the chapter lengths and layout! 
> 
> Enjoy! x

"Alllright... murder/suicide in Lindsborg, string of homicides in Spring Hill, missing kid in Pittsburg. Don't need to leave the state for any of 'em." Sam cruised into the kitchen, his laptop and a stack of newspapers balancing precariously on the palm of his hand.

Dean was standing at the stove, shuffling some bacon round in a pan. "Homicides. Only one with a 's' on the end. Rest of them could easily be one offs."

I peered up at them both over my coffee.

"Closest, too." He added.

"That's what I was thinking." Sam sat opposite Maya on the small kitchen table as Dean dropped our breakfasts in front of us. "Thanks, Dean. "Maya, what do you think?"

I stared at him, a bacon laden fork hovering inches from my open mouth. "Wha- you want me with you?" My stomach lurched.

"Dean and I have been thinking... this bunker isn't good for you. I know you've been out and about, I know you got to see some sunlight, but it's not enough. It's not healthy. So... you wanna go on a hunt?"

I leapt out of my seat to pull them both into a tight embrace. "Are you kidding me? Yes!"

"Maybe this time we'll get to see how good you really are..." Dean teased.

I sat back down, breathing a little heavy. "Hey, I was amazing last time buddy. Just... didn't end well. Happens to the best of 'em." I pointed my fork at him. "Maybe this time, I'll get to see good you two really are."

"Well prepare to be blown away, princess."

I laughed, but sensed that Dean was unsure. His demeanour wasn't giving it away, but I could feel that he wasn't convinced by what he was saying.

Sam let out an awkward cough. "Well, um... I'm gonna go pack a bag, I'll leave you two alone with your breakfast."

Dean waved nonchalantly in Sam's direction.

"You sure you feel ready to get back out there?" Dean asked, the furrow in his brow giving away his concern.

"I was ready as soon as I was healed, Dean, you don't need to worry about me. Plus, I'm stronger than ever, now, I might even be better than you." I toyed with my hair.

"You alright, Dean?"

Dean gave a sigh so heavy that my chest tightened. His hand found his chin, rubbing the scruff that had appeared after a couple days without a shave. He looked older then, the boyish glimmer in his eyes dulled. "I don't know, My. Our lives... it never seems easy, it's never safe. Like everything we touch turns to crap and I'm responsible. If it wasn't for us, you wouldn't be in this mess. You might be safe for now, but do you really, honestly think they won't find you? Do you really think you're going to always be safe? The bunker keeps you safe, it keeps us all safe, but out there, god knows what's gonna happen. Just cause we haven't heard anythin' doesn't mean they're not plannin' somethin'"

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead," I said gently, watching as he rubbed his temples, "and we've gotta deal with this. As it comes. Not before. What're we gonna do, plan a preemptive strike on the angels? It's been three months, and nothing. I've been out of the bunker- nothing. The three of us... we can cope with anything life throws at us. Let's do this, hey? Roam the country, kicking monster butt."

He toyed with the sleeve of his shirt, making him look unexpectedly vulnerable. His usual cocky, confident demeanour hidden behind the crinkle of his concerned face. He didn't speak, and I didn't push him. The kitchen fell into silence, the whirr of the ventilation and the occasional groan of the pipes the only break from the quiet. I finished my breakfast, sipped my coffee, washed the dishes, put away the eggs and bacon, and Dean sat, silently rifling through a paper that Sam had left behind, his eyes never once drifting upward.

* * *

 

He let Maya potter around him for a while, washing dishes and tidying the counters. He didn't feel like talking much, but her presence comforted him, so he picked up a newspaper Sam had left behind as an excuse to stay there, silent. He tried to push the guilt away, to remind himself that he and his brother and saved her life, but history tells him time and time again that getting cosy with the Winchester's doesn't end well. His head told him she could take care of herself, but he couldn't convince his heart. She'd been keeping herself to herself, taking jobs has she found them, jobs where the monsters didn't know her name and when the town was in her rear-view, the fight was too. Now... now there was a chance that it would get personal. A chance that moving from cheap motel to cheap motel wouldn't leave the monsters behind. He blinked his eyes back into focus as Maya wordlessly re-filled his coffee cup, a warm hand squeezing his shoulder. He offered her a weak smile, and she disappeared out of the kitchen, leaving him alone.

"Dean, man? Thought you were packing, we wanna leave today, you know." Sam's voice came from behind him.

Dean bristled. "Well sorry, Sam. Sorry I'm not in any rush to take Maya's ass out of the safety of the bunker and into god knows what. For all we know, they could be trying to lure us out."

His brother rolled his eyes. "Maya's not a kid, Dean, she's not even a civilian. She's a hunter, just like you and me. She can handle herself." Sam took Maya's empty seat opposite him. His voice softened. "Look. I get it, you're worried about her. I'm worried about her, too. But can you imagine how pissed she'd be if she saw you acting like this? Acting like she's some fragile little girl that needs protecting?"

"We have a responsibility to-"

"No, Dean, we don't have a responsibility to her or anybody. All she wants is for us to be there for her, for back-up, like we're equals. Not for two personal body guards watching out for someone that can't protect themselves."

Dean rested his chin on steepled fingers. "I know... I know. I just don't get how she can so easily put herself in danger."

A dry laugh escaped Sam's throat. "You mean like you've done on so many occasions? It's because she's like us Dean. She can't sit around and wait for things to happen. She can't ignore a case, let innocent people die, because there's a chance it might put her own life in danger. She can't stay cooped up in here; did you even see her? I swear man, it was making her ill. This is the best thing for her, at our sides, doing what she does best."

Dean sighed, resigned. "I guess you're right, Sammy. Hell, she could probably hand my own ass to me if she tried."

"Probably." Sam replied with a laugh. "Pack a bag, Dean, we leave this afternoon."

He thought about what they'd both said. He felt a new wave of resolution wash over him. She was going to be with them again, all the time. He didn't have to feel the knots in his stomach they had to say goodbye, waving to them from the bottom of the stairs. She was strong. They would be there for her. They'd be doing what they loved. How had it taken him this long to realise?

 *****

 

The late afternoon sun, dipped low in sky, tried its utmost to blind Dean as the Impala swept along Route 81 towards Spring Hill. It had been raining, and the sunlight reflected off the damp, black tarmac, making Dean squint. Maya sat in the back, her legs crossed, humming along to the radio, Sam rode shotgun, his eyes focused and staring ahead.

"Anything else we need to know before we pull up to Murderville?" Dean took a sideways glance at Sam.

"Mmmm... not really. All killed in the same way, shot through the heart, then tied to a chair post-mortem."

"Ick." Maya piped up, pulling herself forward into the fray using Sam's seat. "That sounds more like a psycho serial killer than a monster; you sure about this, Sam?"

Sam feigned offence. "Are you questioning my intuition?"

"Bit late to be asking him that now, angel." Dean smirked.

She threw her hands up. "Now, now. I'm not questioning anybody... just...curious. Nobody filled me in any further, remember?" An accusatory finger was pointed at Sam.

The younger Winchester turned to face Maya. "Because you two were having some sort of movie moment."

"Alright, alright, you couple'a kids... Sam, fill her in would ya? She'll only pout."

On cue Maya's lips pursed into a child-like pout. Dean took a quick glance at her through the rear-view, not being able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips.

"Ok, ok. All the spouses are missing. Haven't been seen since it happened."

Maya's expression turned quizzical. "Four bodies.. four missing spouses. Alright, Sam, I'm sorry I questioned you." She patted him on the shoulder, and he gave a resolute nod.

The Welcome to Spring Hill sign appeared in front of them, then slowly shrunk away as the trees grew sparser and buildings more abundant.

*****

Dean left the car idling as Sam ran into yet another motel to find a room. There was some sort of festival on the outskirts of town this week, and everywhere seemed to be booked up.

"What kind of people have the time to come to mid-week craft and arts festival?" Maya's head appeared next to his, resting on the front seat.

"Soccer Moms. People who retired at forty. Grandmas."

Her throaty laugh, so close to his ear, gave Dean goosebumps, and her turned towards her. Her skin was glowing in the early evening light, the glimmer had returned to her wide-set eyes. He noticed a smattering of light freckles dusting her nose and cheeks that he'd never seen before. She was beautiful, no doubt about that, but right now she seemed more beautiful than ever. Like the life that the bunker had sucked out of her had returned tenfold, and she was even more Maya than she was before. Her eyes squinted to focus as something ahead, and he turned to see Sam standing outside the reception, beckoning them out of the car and toward a room. His passenger's eyebrows lifted.

"This place looks nice!"

"Little nicer than we'd usually go for, but I guess we don't have a lotta choice."

"Nope." She said shortly, savouring the fact that she'd gotten exactly what she was hoping for. She slipped out the car.

"Probably more expensive, too!" Her voice was cheerful she sashayed toward Sam, Dean trying his hardest not to notice the exaggerated swing of her hips.

 

* * *

 

 

"Good morning. I'm Agent Carter, this is my partner Agent Rogers, and our colleague Agent Barnes." Sam, Dean and I flashed our badges in perfect unison." We wondered if we could speak to whoever's in charge of operations round here. " The Spring Hill police station was a small, unassuming building in the centre of town, with peeling white walls and the feint smell of damp.

"That'll be Sheriff Weller. If you give me a moment." The receptionist pushed herself up from her chair and bustled into the back room, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Nice place, huh?" Dean mumbled, eyeing the faded carpet.

"It's not all pristine, marbled floored offices with floor to ceiling windows, kid."

Sam chuckled. "I don't think it's ever been."

"Sirs, Ma'am. I'm Sheriff Weller, how can I assist you today?" He offered me a warm, rough hand.

It was Sam who spoke. "String of homicides? The bureau thought we should take a look- there've been a couple of similar cases in New Mexico. Wondered what you could tell us."

"If you want to come through, I can give you the rundown on what we've got so far." He led us through to the backroom, small but bustling, and offered us a seat as his desk.

"Small place like this...things like that just don't happen. Think the whole town's on edge." The case file was dropped in front us.

I looked to the crime scene photos first. They weren't grisly- I'd definitely seen worse, but there was something disturbing about them. They were clean, tidy, clinical almost. There were three male vics, one woman. All the photos looked pretty much the same. Each of them were tied to a dining room chair, their hands behind their backs, their mouths gagged. I flicked through, finding the coroner's photos. I squinted at them closely. The entry wounds on two of the four vics were slightly different to the others.

"The gunshots... First and second vic shot with a different weapon, right?" I passed them along to Dean.

"That's right, ma'am. We think the second vic, Carrie Lee, was killed by a revolver or somethin', .45 cal. Mr Wicks..."

"A 12 gauge..." I finished.

"Right. The other two, looks to be a standard 9mm pistol."

It was Sam's turn to ask questions, as Dean and I continued perusing the file. "Any sign of forced entry?"

"Nope. They either knew their killer personally, or at least trusted 'em enough to let 'em into their homes."

"And the spouses?"

The sheriff adjusted his collar. "Heh. Well, we don't know about the spouses. Nowhere to be found, none of em. Makes 'em look mighty suspicious, but what the hell kind of crazy coincidence is that? We were thinkin' serial killer- kill a spouse, take a spouse, that kinda thing. We've had search parties lookin' for 'em since it happened. Nothin'"

Dean stood up and offered his hand to the sheriff. "Thanks, Sheriff, you've been a real help. Call us if anythin' else comes up. Which way to the ME's office? We oughta take a look at the bodies."

***

"Well that was a bust." I sighed, sliding on my sunglasses as we stepped out of the Hospital. "Not a single weird or wonderful thing between them."

"Looks like the weird isn't in the way they were killed, it was who they were killed by." Sam shook his head. "The whole different weapon thing seems off, too. If we've got some potentially supernatural serial killer, why would they use different weapons? That's not usually their style."

"Right. They usually have the same method, the same weapon. Seems more like different killer, same M.O." Dean shrugged.

I scratched my head, the midday heat making me feel a little sleepy. "We should definitely try to track down their partners. Maybe they were forced to kill them, possessed? Then when they'd realised what they'd done, they scarpered."

"Seems viable to me." Dean eyed an upcoming diner. "I'm hungry though, can't think on a empty stomach."

I followed the boys into the small, brightly decorated diner, the smell of burgers and waffles making my stomach grumble. I paused at the threshold. I felt a prickle climb up my spine and to my neck, as though someone's eyes were on me. I took a breath and turned around, eyes scanning everything in my immediate area, heat rising in my face. Nothing. No shady characters, no one dressed all in black, nothing. I mentally chastised myself for being so paranoid. I was warded, I had the boys at my side; I was safe. I pulled myself together, painted a smile on my lips and joined Sam and Dean at a booth in the corner.

"You alright?" Dean's concerned eyes scanned my face.

"Yeah... fine, just... thought I heard something."

The brothers' eyes met across the table, and a crinkle appeared between Sam's nose.

"Well. Let's order then, huh? If I wait any longer I think I'll pass out." I was grateful for Dean pretending to let it slide, even though the look that passed between he and his brother was so clearly a silent agreement to discuss this in great detail later on. 

***** 

The Impala made its steady way along Spring Hill's main street, streetlights illuminated the occasional car tucked between rows of neatly pruned trees. It was quiet on the streets, but I noticed huddles of peoples through the windows of the bars and restaurants, their warm lights making squares of orange on the dark pavement. We needed to check out the crime scenes, but as we were a little late to the party, most of them had already been cleaned by now and the bodies taken to the morgue. The first victim's house was on a wide, tree-lined street; it looked like the kind of house I drew when I was a kid, perfectly square, four windows on the front, and no porch. The car gave a throaty grumble as it slowed to a stop just outside the property, and we took a moment to get kitted out.

"Maya: EMF reader; Sam: torch; Dean: talent, speed, skilfulness, you know the drill." Dean's eyes glinted mischievously as he looked at me. I couldn't resist slapping him arm.

"If we don't find anything," I nodded toward the house, "I'm going home." I was on high alert after this afternoon. I didn't see anything, but the feeling that someone was out there kept gnawing at me. I stayed close to Dean as we made our way across the lawn. 

The EMF reader remained silent throughout the house, and barely even flickered as we searched the crime scene. There was, however, an overwhelming scent of rotten eggs. 

"Sulfur." Sam said, his face crinkled in disgust. 

"Great. Just great. You know what?" Dean held his hands up above his head. "I'm sick of these black-eyed bastards." 

I suppressed a giggle. "I'm sure they're sick of you too, Dean. Let's check out the rest of the house, huh? I'll take downstairs." 

Dean pointed a finger at me. "You got your gun?" 

I tapped the pistol tucked into the waistband of my jeans. "Of course." 

I headed for the kitchen, first, not really expecting to find anything. As I reached the back door, I felt my skin prickle again. The air seemed to wave, the way it does it when it's hot out. I could hear a quiet ringing in my ears. The same thing I felt when I sensed Cas coming.  _Shit._ The angel blade was in the trunk. I pulled out my gun and cocked it, knowing full well it wouldn't do a thing against an angel, but taking comfort in it's weight in my hand. I started to out of the room, slowly, the muzzle of my gun aimed at the the back door. I thought I might be able to get to the trunk, or at least warn Sam and Dean so they could get a head start, but I found myself unable to make a sound.  The ringing grew louder until I had to press my hands to my ears, and grip the countertop for support. The back door swung open, before I could even will my legs to move I felt a sharp pain on the back of my neck, and everything went warm and dark. 


	12. Three Days

  
"Maya?" Dean's voice echoed down the empty stairwell. "Nothing up here. You found anything?"

  
His eyes found Sam's when they received no reply.

  
"Maya?" he tried again. "You alright?"

  
Nothing. His heart began to pound, and he felt a heat prickle up his back. He nodded to Sam to stay behind him, and edged slowly down the stairs. The kitchen door was ajar, and his hand went to his gun. He pulled it out and cocked it, his eyes trained at the door. Booting it open with his foot, his eyes scanned the room, Sam hovering behind him. She wasn't there. She wasn't in the living room, either, they had a full view of that as they descended the stairs.

  
"Where is she, Dean?" Sam's brow was furrowed.

  
"How should I know?" Dean snapped, lowering his gun.

He watched Sam push the back door open and slip outside into the warm evening air, before his eyes snapped back to the scene in the kitchen. He stooped down to look for any signs of struggle- scuff marks, blood, hair. The breakfast bar in the centre of the room was raised, leaving a good six or seven inch gap between the base and the floor. Dean pulled his flashlight from his back pocket and shone it underneath. There, he caught a glimmer of silver metal and the wooden grip of Maya's favoured 9mm pistol.   
He reached under the counter and retrieved it, hauling himself up and out into the back garden and straight into Sam.

  
"Dean?"

  
He didn't need to say anything. He just held up Maya's gun and the two of them were back in the impala within seconds. Dean tried to pull his phone out to call her, but found his fingers wouldn't work. Sensing Dean's edginess, Sam pulled out his own phone and dialled Maya's number, freeing Dean to hot-tail the car towards the motel.

  
"Nothing. Just ringing out."

  
"Try again." Dean's jaw clenched.

  
"Dean. I've tried six times already."

  
"Call the phone company. Try and pull her GPS location." His eyes never left the road.

  
"Fine." Sam listened to the dial tone, his long fingers drumming on his legs.

"Hi, yeah, my Fiancee went on a camping trip a couple days ago, and I haven't been able to contact her, I wonder if you could switch on her GPS, let me know where she is? Maya... Stark?"

He glanced at Dean who gave a small nod. " Yep. Great, thanks." The drumming of Sam's fingers got more incessant.

"Right. I understand. Thanks anyway."

Dean's stomach gave a lurch when he heard Sam's defeated tone. "I swear to god, if some self-righteous, ass-kissing angel has her-"

  
"You think this is an angel?"

  
"Who else? She said she thought she saw someone, remember? They've probably been tracing us... hell, they probably bought us here!" Dean slammed his hands on the steering wheel, the car swerving slightly. He watched his younger brother's expression drop, the crinkle in his brow giving away his anxiety.

  
"We'll find her, Sammy, we've gotta." Not quite believing in his own resolve, he swung into a motel parking spot, hoping to god he'd see her face when he pushed open that door.

* * *

* * *

 

 

I let my eyes flutter open, only to be met by near-total darkness. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust, and I could just about make out the four corners of a huge room. Heavy metal rafters above me told me I was in a warehouse, or factory, or somewhere equally disturbing. I bit back a yell as I tried to my shoulder, as though I'd been thrown against a wall. I could just about make out the outline of a tall figure, shrouded in shadow, leaning against something in the corner of the room. They must have sensed my stirring, as I saw their head tilt, before they turned round and starting walking toward me. 

  
"Well, well. I didn't expect you to be awake yet."

The gentle baritone of his voice surprised me. As he got closer I could make out his tall, lean frame, and smart black suit.   
I fidgeted in my seat again, but I could feel the burn of rope against my wrist.

"You appreciate I had to restrain you, don't you, Miss Cole?" His voice was honey. "I didn't expect you to come round for at least an hour. Thank goodness I had the foresight, hey angel?"

  
I blanched. Dean's pet name for me. How did he know?

  
He stopped a few inches from my face, he smelt like clean cotton. "I trust you won't go anywhere in the next ten seconds. Nod your head."

  
I obliged, biting my tongue. My heart stopped as I caught the glint of an angel blade out of the corner of my eye; my breath baited, I waited for the inevitable piercing, cold pain, and the fading light- for the end. It didn't come. Instead, I felt the pressure of the ropes alleviate, and I could bend my fingers again.

  
"Won't be needing these now." The man smiled, his eyes glinting. He dropped something on the floor a few feet in front of me, and I closed my against a burst of light penetrating the darkness, feeling an overwhelming heat climb up my skin. There was suddenly enough light to illuminate the whole of the room; dark, orange flames encircled me. I didn't understand. I let me brain work, closing my eyes against the heat and light again. What was happening?

Holy oil. A circle of holy fire surrounding me meant I couldn't move. Well, I could, but I'd more than probably die.

  
I found my voice. "Who are you? Is this how you like to spend your time, kidnapping defenceless humans?"

  
He laughed drily. "Human? You are not human. We've been looking for you for a while now, we know what you are."

  
"Oh, really? Please, do enlighten me." I adopted the most sardonic tone I could muster, but I sensed his could see through it.

  
"Nephil." He spat. "The scum of our world."

  
"I told you. I'm human." He didn't say anything. "I'm 36. If I was a nephil, tell me, wouldn't you have known about in say, 1981?"

  
He paused for a long moment. "Why now?" he sneered, "why now to unleash your power? What have you got planned?"

  
I laughed. "I hate to be the one to piss on your parade, but I got no plans," I shifted in my seat, my neck and shoulder throbbing with a dull pain.

  
He ignored me. "Why did the angel Castiel help you? What did you offer him?"

  
I bristled. "Castiel... had nothing to do with anything."

  
"Tulsa General Hospital. March fourth of this year. You were supposed to die."

  
I clamped my mouth shut.

  
"We received some... interesting information from a reaper. They were about to take your soul, you were about to die. They had you in their sights. Then, you somehow made a miraculous recovery, and our friend couldn't make her delivery."

  
I felt goosebumps form on my arm. Had I really been that close to dying?   
"Cas healed me." I said with quiet anger. "I was dying. I was healed. That's it. _That's_ what you kidnapped me for?"

  
"I'm merely looking for answers, which you will provide in your own time, I'm sure." The faint smile on his lips made my breath hitch. "It seems you're done co-operating for today. Let me escort you to your quarters."

  
In a second, the ring of fire around me dissolved to nothing, and the room fell dark again. I stood up from the chair with shaky legs, and decided this was a good a chance as ever. I lunged toward him, as fast as my unsteady legs could carry me, my shoulder meeting his chest and sending us both toward the ground. I landed on top of him, my hand now finding his neck, blood pounding in my ears. I was stronger than I'd ever been, but I still couldn't hold him for long. With a flick of his free hand I was thrown backwards, my head meeting the cold concrete floor. Within a second he was standing over me, the silver glint of his angel blade matching the evil glint in his eye.

  
"Now, now. That's no way for a lady to behave." He pulled me up by t-shirt, light still swimming in my vision from the fall. "Looks like we're going to have to keep a closer eye on you than I anticipated."

  
His forefinger met my temple and darkness closed in again.

 

*****

  
  
I woke up lying on a dusty, stone floor, a pillar of early morning light slipping in through a slat in a wall. I shivered. The room I was in was tiny, probably ten foot by six foot, and at one end was a huge steel door, like the ones a prison cell. My throat was dry, and my breath was raspy. I needed water, my head was spinning before I stood up. The whole left side of my body ached, I could barely move my neck, and my wrists were hot and sore from where I'd struggled against the ropes. I made a futile attempt to open the door, knowing full well no captor worth his salt would leave a door unlocked. I slumped down in the corner of the room near the slither of light that was seeping in. I needed a way out. This guy was stronger than me, he'd proved it yesterday. I'd hardly trained, really, and these guys had been fighting for millennia.

  
I thought of Sam and Dean, hoping to god that they were looking for me, that they had even the slightest idea where I might be.

  
The steel door swung open, allowing the blinding light of a corridor to fill the tiny room. I squinted against it, and before I could even begin to move, a cheap plastic tray was dropped in front of me and the door slammed shut again. There was a plastic cup of water and a cheap microwave pastry. I glugged the water but left the food; my stomach felt like lead when I thought about what that creep might do to me, and I began to sweat. I needed a way out. How could I get out?

My head starting spinning again, the small glass of water doing little to alleviate my thirst. Black dots filled my vision, and I began to drift in and out of consciousness.

  
_Blood red images filled my mind. Circles, symbols I didn't understand. A triangle, an N, a number 3. They kept appearing, never whole, but punctuating my sub-conscious. I could hear distant voices, but they were muffled, like a radio station that was too far away._

*****

  
"Who are you?"  
"What are you planning?"   
"What do you want with Castiel?"

  
The same three questions, over and over, every time my mouth stayed a tight, thin line, every time the ice cold angel blade pierced my skin. Sam and Dean still hadn't found me, and for three days I'd been hearing the same questions slip from the angels mouth. My skin was constantly bleeding, every time I failed to answer I would feel the blade slide down my chest, my arms, my back. Then, when I was in the safety of my tiny room, I would let the warmth take over my body and my cuts would heal over.

The symbols clouded my mind every time I slept, all the time becoming clearer and clearer. I didn't know what they were, what they meant. They looked like some kind of sigil, but those distant voices still weren't telling me anything. I was holding out hope the Sam and Dean would find me, but my resolve was beginning to falter. I couldn't wait for the brothers to ride in and rescue me. I couldn't keep listening to that prick asking me the same questions day in and day out, never once giving up, or changing tactic. He hadn't even told me his name.

  
"Get up." The door to my room creaked open and his voice slipped through the gap, along with the light from the corridor outside.

"Up."

I did as I was told, if I'd learned anything from books and movies it was to not make things difficult for myself. He thought he would eventually break me, and I let him. He led me through the corridor, and into the room I'd be spending twelve hours a day in, and motioned for me to sit down.

  
"We looked into your parents." His ochre skin was bathed in the light seeping in through a window, and for the first time he truly looked angelic. "Emmett Michael Cole, born January 29th 1953. A Vet, huh? Bet that messed him up good. Kathleen Sarah Cole, nee Bennett, born June Fifteenth, 1956. Beautiful thing, just like you. A nurse...in the Navy no less. Is that why you ended up working in a hospital? "

  
I did nothing except stare blankly at him, but behind my back my hands were clenched so tightly I could feel my fingernails digging into my palm.   
"You see, we're pretty clever, us Angels, and we did a little digging- wondered whether one of your folks was ever a vessel for one of us. Do you know what we found?" He brought his face to mine.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. So do you want to tell me how a human, born of human parents, could possess the grace of an angel?"   
  
I could tell that he sensed my pulse quickening, but he remained still, his placid expression never once shifting. While he may see through me, I'd never openly given him any indication that he'd flustered or confused me. I gave him a sickly sweet smile.

"Well I would have no idea. How could a human, born of human parents, possess the grace of an angel?"

  
He pressed his angel blade to my bare neck, his voice a deathly whisper. "I am tired of your games, of your lies. Do you think I can't see through your thinly veiled facade? Humans are so insolent." He spat, the blade pressing harder into my neck- I could feel a warm, sticky trickle of blood slip down my skin onto my chest.

"You will tell me, how you came to possess this power, or so help me god I will find every last person you care about, and you will watch them die."

  
I didn't so much as blink.

"My name is Kushiel, I have been sent to get answers, and I will get them." I could feel red hot rage radiating from him, but I didn't falter. Sam and Dean’s faces popped into my head, making my heart race. Would he hurt them? If I didn’t speak up, didn’t come clean, would he kill them? I clamped my mouth around the truth that was threatening to come out. No, I had to stay silent, stay quiet. No matter the threat, no matter the risk. That was the only way we could stay together: they’d find me; we’d kill Kushiel; we’d move on. If I was dead, that couldn’t happen. 

  
I shook my head at him. "I'm not feeling very talkative today, Kushiel, maybe you should try again tomorrow."

He ripped the bindings from my wrists and pulled me to my feet and I struggled to keep up with his pace as he dragged me back to the room. He practically threw me inside, the door thundering shut behind him. I watched it close and smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the story- I'd really love to hear your feedback if you are, or even if you're not! 
> 
> I also hope the chapters aren't too long- there's a lot going on in Maya, Sam and Dean's world right now, but I don't want the chapters to be dragging! 
> 
> AP x


	13. The Get Out

 

“It’s been three days, Dean, three days and we’ve heard nothing. Not even one bite.” Sam was sitting at the small table in their motel room, eyes dark and heavy. Dean leant against the connecting wall for the kitchen and the bedroom, leg quivering, chewing his thumb. “Maybe we should call in some reinforcements.”

“What? You mean Cas?” Sam gave him a look as if to say ‘duh’, and took a sip of water. “Oh hell no. No way. I mean, I’d trust Cas with my life, it’s all those other winged ass-holes I don’t trust. We don’t want them to know we’re on to them.”

“So we’re gonna just sit here?”

“No, Sam, we’re not gonna just sit here. But we’re gonna have to think of something other than calling the angel brigade.” Dean strode over to Maya’s bed and perched on the end, trying to ignore the fact that her pyjamas were still neatly folded next to him. “Where do psychos usually take their kidnapping victims? Warehouses, old farmhouses, underground bunkers? Search for anything that might fit the bill within ten miles of here. We hit ‘em all until we find her.”

Sam rubbed his temple. “That could take forever, Dean, if we just call Cas-“

“No! No angels. You hear me, Sammy? No angels.”

The younger brother held his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. No angels.”

* * *

 

“Maya? Can you hear me? Maya? The sigil. The sigil is the only way out without a fight. Sam and Dean still haven’t located you. You need to draw it on your skin… It’s no use, Phanuel. She cannot hear me.”

“Try again, brother. It is your duty to keep her safe.”

Cas sat down heavily on a rough wooden chair. The two angels were occupying a crumbling farmhouse a couple of miles out of town, the walls and windows covered in protective markings and sigils. They couldn’t seem to reach her. “You are my friend, Castiel. My brother. I agreed to help you find and protect this ward of yours, but you cannot give up so easily. You are her only hope. You know Kushiel. He is ruthless, reckless. If he breaks her she will never be the same.”

The taller of the angels stood at the window, facing the overgrown field outside. “Then we need to try harder.”

* * *

 

Kushiel didn’t come for me again for what felt like days, not even coming by to drop me food or water. My sleep became more broken, more noisy. The voices that kept permeating my subconscious were becoming louder, more clear. I could make out my name, I could make out sigil, I could make out the voice. Cas.

“Maya? Can you hear me? Maya?” My brain was so heavy and sleepy I struggled to tune in.

“The sigil. The sigil is the only way out without a fight. Sam and Dean still haven’t located you. You need to draw it on your skin…”

My skin? Draw it on my skin? With what? Did I even remember it clearly enough? And what would it do? Sam and Dean had showed me a few sigils and wardings, but I couldn’t differentiate between any of them properly.

When it was light I scoured the room for anything that I might be able to use to draw the mark on my skin, but there was nothing in there that could possibly hurt me, Kushiel had made sure of that. I stood up to look at the small slat that let the light in, my legs practically unusable. It was a little too high for me, so I had to feel it with my hands. It was rough, and there was a little loose stone barely attached to the rest of the wall. I pulled at it; it came away with ease, and I squinted in the light to get a better look at it. It was a couple of inches long; it didn’t have any sharp edges, but I figured if I could snap it in half, I’d be left with a couple of jagged edges that might just be enough.  
Before I could even try the door of my room swung open and Kushiel appeared in the doorway, a plastic tray balanced on the palm of his hand. I pushed the piece of stone into my back pocket.

“Here. We do need you alive… for now.” He dropped the tray in front of me and a little water splashed over the side of the cup.  
My stomach grumbled in anticipation. I ate quickly, knowing that I needed to do this before he came back and dragged me back into the interrogation room. I couldn’t bare him touching me again. I slid the tray toward the door and pulled the stone out of my sleeve. I tried with my hands first, but my fingers weren’t strong enough to snap it. They should have been, I had grace, but I figured that Kushiel might have something to do with that.  
“Damn it.” I whispered, biting my lip. I looked at the piece of stone, wondering whether the surface area was big enough for me to snap it against the wall with my foot. I decided it wasn’t. I needed something hard. There was nothing else in the room apart from myself and the plastic tray, not even a bed.  
Then it clicked: the tray. The stone might not have been big enough to prop against the wall, but the tray certainly was, and if it snapped just right I thought I might get an edge sharp enough to draw the sigil on my skin, even if it did hurt like a mother. The only problem with the tray was that Kushiel would come back for it. I didn’t hesitate, I pulled it towards me and rested it against the wall; steadying myself with my hands I brought my boot down on it at hard as I could, with all the angelic strength I could muster and with a satisfying snap it clattered to the floor in two uneven pieces. My heart started pounding as a realised I might just do this, but when I picked up one of the pieces I realised it was a little big to draw. I placed the biggest half back on the floor, feeling nauseous with hope and fear at the same time. If he came back, that would be it. I brought my foot down hard again, and the piece snapped again. It was still a little clunky, but it was sharp enough and would have to do. I tried to concentrate hard on the sigil that Cas had sent me. The circle, with the triangle shape at the top, the strange looking five in the centre, the three, the ‘N’. I decided my thigh was the best place to carve it, so I hitched down my jeans.

The plastic was sharp, but nowhere near sharp enough. I had to press down with all my strength, and it took everything I had not to cry out as the rugged edge dragged through my skin. Tells welled in my eyes and ran hot and salty down my cheek, but I kept going. It was my only hope. Blood pooled from the cuts and ran down my leg and I could barely see for the tears in my eyes. by the time I’d finished I felt faint. But nothing happened. No explosion, no cries of pain from Kushiel, nothing. I didn’t even try to stifle a cry. I looked at my hand, bloody from where it had brushed my leg, and wanted to scream. I couldn’t stay here for any longer, I couldn’t. I missed Sam and Dean and Cas, and I was worried about them, about what Kushiel had said. Had my stubbornness got them hurt? I went to stand up, to pull my jeans back up, I winced at the pain and had to rest my hand on top of my thigh to push up, I was too weak. As soon as I pressed down, there was blinding light and I felt myself flung backwards, through what should have been a wall, but it didn’t stop. I tried to close my eyes and fight the nausea that was overwhelming. When I opened them, I was lying face down on dark tarmac, with two bright lights thundering toward me.

 

* * *

 

“Dean? This is the sixth warehouse we’ve been to tonight… do you… do you think we’re gonna find her?” Two flashlight beams flittered out of sync in a dank, dusty meatpacking warehouse.

 

“Whatever it takes, Sam, we gotta find her. I don’t even wanna think about what’s happening to her.”

 

“Six buildings. No sign. What if she’s not being kept anywhere near town?” 

 

“Then we widen our search.” Dean said plainly, his hand hovering over a door handle in front of him. He cracked it open slightly, pointing the muzzle of his gun. through the gap before stepping through himself. His breath caught in his throat.

 

“Sam.” There was a circle of scorched concrete surrounding a small wooden chair, fitted with brown leather bindings.

 

“Maya? Maya!” He shouted, not even thinking about who might be around to hear them, his need to find Maya outweighing the wish for any tactical advantage an unexpected attack might offer. His eyes stung and he could barely control his breathing as he pushed back through the door, desperate for any sign of where she was.

“I’ll go left, you go right.” He shouted as his brother who was already ten feet behind him, the dull hum of the emergency lighting buzzing in his ear. He barged open every door on the corridor, finding nothing but old rotting desks and filing cabinets. The door on the end though, he couldn’t get through alone. He felt a dull ache in his chest. This must be where they were keeping her. He shouted to his brother who seemed to take hours to reach his side.

 

“Maya? It’s Sam and Dean. Are you in there? Are you…alright?” Alive. Sam meant alive. They were soldiers, the both of them, but when someone they cared about was in trouble, their resolve crumbled to almost nothing.

 

“We gotta shoot the lock.” Dean was pacing outside the door, his knuckles white against the grip of his gun.

 

“Are you crazy?” Sam looked as his brother, whose steely eyes didn’t leave the door. He could see the desperation in them, though, he could hear his ragged breathing and his frantic tone, worlds away from his usual demeanour.

 

“It’ll never make it through that metal, Dean, it’ll probably kill us first.”

 

“Then what the hell do we do, Sam? Tell me.”

 

Sam paused. “We pick it.”

 

“Pick it? We don’t have time to…”

 

Sam already had a lock pick out of his pocket and was working on getting them in. It took him seconds. “Desperate times don’t always mean desperate measures, Dean.”

 

Dean went in first, his stomach dropping when he saw the room empty. There was nothing at all in there, not a bed, not a window, nothing. Nothing except something glistening red on the dark concrete, and shards of plastic scattered around the floor.

 

“Maya.” He breathed.


	14. Moose Jaw

 

I rolled my body to the right as the headlights zoomed past me, the roar of an engine ringing in my ears. I breathed a shaky breath, silently sending thanks to whoever the hell was watching over me. I realised my jeans were still hitched down, and dirt from the road had stuck to the open cuts on my leg. My whole body groaned in dissent as I tried to push myself up off the ground to pull up my pants. It was dark, it was cold, and I felt like I was going to pass out, something I’d done way too many times to be proud of this week. I could just about walk, but I felt like I’d _actually_ been hit by a truck. I tried to focus on the warm energy inside of me, willing the wounds to close and my joints to ease. I still felt the same. I hobbled along in the direction that the truck went, hoping I wasn’t too far out of Spring Hill.

 

I must’ve walked for an hour before I reached even a glimmer of civilisation. A tiny diner dotted on the side of the road, a couple of battered trucks parked up outside. The doorbell tinkled as I pushed myself inside. A couple of heads turned to look at me, but if I looked as bad as I felt, they didn’t notice. I headed to the counter.

 

“Could you tell me how far it is to Spring Hill?”

 

A waitress with a thin smile and coiffed hair looked at me. “Spring Hill? Sorry, ma’am, never heard of it. Are you alright? You look like you’ve been in a car accident or something.”

 

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of it? I was there just a minute ago.”

 

“Ma’am? Are you sure you’re alright?” I saw her eyes flash to the phone mounted on the wall.

 

“I- I’m fine. Look just- tell me where I am.”

 

“Highway Two, just outside of Moose Jaw.” She gave me a gentle smile.

 

“Moose Jaw. Moose Jaw? Canada?”

 

The waitress placed a cup of water in front me. “Drink this. I think we should phone an ambulance, clearly something’s happened to you that’s made you-“

 

“No!” I snapped. “No. Please, just let me use your phone.”

 

“Well, okay. But if I think you’re about to pass out or something I’m calling 911.”

 

I ignored her and instead slipped behind the counter to the phone. I punched in Dean’s number with shaky fingers, praying he picked up.

 

“Yeah.” I couldn’t stifle the smile that spread across my face when I heard his voice. His tone was terse, but it soothed me no end.

 

“Dean? It’s me? Are you alright? Are you safe?”

 

“Maya?” I could hear his sigh of relief. “Are you alright? Where are you? We’re coming to get you.”

 

“Dean. I’m in Canada.”

 

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “They took you to Canada?”

 

“No, no, I don’t think so. I don’t really know what happened. I just- I opened my eyes and I was in the middle of a road and I walked and a waitress said I was in Moose Jaw and Cas told me about a sigil.” I was stumbling over my words, and I could heat rising in my cheeks as tears welled.  

 

“Woah, woah, hey. Slow down, alright angel? Tell me what happened.”

 

I took a breath again, lowering my voice. “Cas told me through the angel radio about some Sigil, he said I needed to have it on my skin, that it was the only way. I did it and nothing happened, and then suddenly I’m in Canada. I don’t know what the hell happened, Dean. I can’t seem to…”

 

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? We’re gonna come and get you. It was an angel banishing sigil. They’re supposed to be written in blood, on a wall or floor or somewhere, but that doesn’t get rid of the angel who uses it. It had to be on you, so it would banish you too- get you out of there.”

 

“Is he going to be here, too?” I couldn’t hide my quiver in my voice.

 

“I don’t know. Probably not, but keep your eyes open, ok? You think you can find a way into town?”

 

“Uh-uh.”

 

“I’ll get Sam to sort out somewhere to stay. Just get yourself into town and find a way to call us. Be careful, alright?”

 

“What about the case?”

 

“Are you crazy? We’ll deal with that later. Stay safe, alright angel?” His voice was soft and concerned. The call clicked off and for the first time in days my chest didn’t hurt when I breathed.

I found a chair at the counter and sighed. I had no money, so I couldn't order a coffee, and I couldn't get a cab or a bus into town, either. The waitress set a steaming cup in front of me. 

"Oh, I don't have-" 

"On the house," she smiled, "don't worry about it." 

I offered a grateful smile.

"I'm Penny."

"Amy." I lied.

"Well, Amy, you wanna explain how you wound up here?"  

I blanched. Uh, well, it's kind of a long story." 

"I got time." 

She was being kind, but her persistence grated on me. The truth would have me either locked up or sectioned. 

"Hen party. It was my hen party." I risked a glance at the Penny's expression. It was surprisingly neutral. "My friends thought it was a good idea to tell the cab driver to 'just drive', when they threw my drunken ass in the back." The lie felt ridiculous as it left my mouth, but the woman gave an understanding smile. 

"Friends, huh? How comes you look like you've been rolling in mud?"

"Ah. Surprisingly that came  _before_ the cab ride from hell."

She clucked. "I daren't ask for any more details. If you need a ride back into town, I clock off in an hour."

"You're serious?" I couldn't hide my relief. 

"As a heart attack. S'long as you've got somewhere to go." 

"I do... I do," 

She poured a second cup of coffee. "Drink this. By God you need it." 

 

 A few cups of coffee and a croissant later I found myself in the passenger side of Penny's truck, watching the blackness roll by, punctuated only by the lights of a few farm houses and a gas station. I don't know how long the journey was, but I could feel myself slipping into sleep, my eyes heavy and my body like lead. 

"Amy? Amy? Where do you need to go, hon?" I blinked my eyes open. 

"Uh... they told me to find a hotel and call them from there, so, anywhere, really." 

"Sure." 

I didn't care about the place, all I needed was a dollar and a payphone. I was growing tired of the charade. "Anywhere's fine, really." 

We pulled up outside a Travelodge, which I hoped wasn't going to be too far from the place that Sam books, and I offer Penny a genuine smile. "This is perfect, thank you, Penny. Really, I can't thank you enough." 

"Don't mention it, sugar. Anything else I can do?"

"Actually," I feigned embarrassment. "Could I get some change for a vending machine? I think I'm gonna need a Coke." 

I watched her fumble around in her coin purse. "Here. Enjoy your coke, Amy." 

"Thank you, really. Thank you so much." I slipped out of the car and into the cool night air, watching the truck as it made its way out of sight. I found a payphone on the corner of the street, and deposited the coins. Sam's voice greeted me like a warm hug; now all I had to do was wait. 

 

 


	15. Tobacco, Vanilla & Iron

“Maya.” Dean breathed, his heart thudding in his chest. He pulled her into a tight embrace as soon as she opened the hotel room door, breathing in the smell of her hair and relishing how tightly her arms squeezed his waist. He kept his arms around her for longer than normal, his hand resting in the small of her back, the warmth of her skin finding his through her shirt.

 

She eventually pulled away, and turned her attention to Sam. He watched her embrace him like he was her brother, his heartbeat settling, his breath slowing.

 “Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled warmly, but her face was tired.

 “You’re alright?” Dean asked, brow furrowed.

 “I’m fine. I slept for about an hour, seems like it was enough.”

 “It wasn't enough,” he smirked, and she gave him a playful slap on the arm.

 “You two can talk. I hope you made a pit stop on the way down here.”

 Dean looked sheepish. “We, uh, we switched.”

 “Unbelievable. Sleep. Now. Both of you.”

 Sam cocked his head. “You don’t wanna go?”

 “I’m not suicidal, no way am I getting in a car with either of you until you’ve slept. Then we eat. _Then_ we go.”

 She looked at them so fiercely that neither of them dared to retort. Sam and Maya took the twin beds, Dean hauled up on the couch under the spare blankets. He lay there, crumpled up on the floral couch, willing sleep to come, but it didn’t. Sam’s snores didn’t take long to arrive, gentle but ceaseless, and he heard a shuffle from the bed closest to him.

 “I thought you’d gone.”

 Maya’s voice sounded, quiet but awake, from the bed. “I know.”

 “We looked for you, I promise you we did.”

 “I know.”

 If Maya said anything else he didn’t hear, but the warm embrace of sleep finally found its way to him, and when he woke up, it was light.

 

* * *

 

 I sat in the back of the Impala, legs curled under me, my eyes fixed on the moving landscape passing by us. I felt okay in myself, but there was anxiety niggling at me when I thought about Kushiel. Did he mean what he said about hurting Sam and Dean? Would Cas be punished?

“…saw a diner just up the road- hey? You with us, Angel?”

 My eyes snapped to Dean. “Huh? What? Sorry…”

 “I _said_ ‘we should get some food, I saw a diner a little up the road on the way down’, you hungry?”

 “Uh. Yeah, I could eat.”

 Sam turned to me, concern set in his features. “You okay? You seem a little… spaced out.”

 I tried a smile. “I’m okay, just…tired. You know I’m a bad passenger.”

 He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press.  The car swerved into the car park of a brightly lit diner and we headed inside.

 “Okay… so, the Spring Hill case: what are we gonna do about it?”  I sipped the coffee that had been poured as soon as our asses touched our seats.

 The brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

 “What?” My eyes narrowed.

 “That… that was a trap.” Sam muttered.

 “A trap? How do you know?”

 “Because it had to be.” Dean lifted the coffee cup to his mouth. “They can’t track us, we’re warded, so how did they know we’d be here? They sent us here, that’s how. We shoulda seen it.”

 “Dean, there’s no way we could have seen this coming,” I said gently, setting a hand on his arm. “We’d heard nothing from them, nothing. It’d been months.”

 “Exactly.”

 We sat in silence while we ate, my appetite insatiable from days of cheap pastries and limp sandwiches. My eyes kept finding their way to Dean’s face, set tightly in a permanent frown, softening only when he caught my eyes on his.  I wanted nothing more than to get back to the bunker, to make light of all this, to speak to Dean alone. In his eyes this was his fault, something he felt he should have predicted- I could see it in his face. I wanted to reach out to him there and then, to hold him the way he held me when I opened the hotel room door, but I couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be welcomed.

 

* * *

 

He watched her breathe a deep sigh of relief as she stepped out of the Impala, back on Kansas ground. A smile lingered on her lips as she helped Sam pull some bags out of the trunk, as she followed him down the metal staircase, as she slipped into the shower room to clean up. Dean smiled too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. For the whole journey home, even when he was talking and laughing with Maya and Sam, there was something gnawing at him, making him restless. His leg would bounce as he sat at their table in a diner, his fingers would drum on the steering wheel as he drove. This was his fault, and Maya shouldn’t be here.  He stood in the library, watching Sam disappear toward the kitchen, then turned on his heel and headed out the door.

 

*****

 

“Another.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, handsome?”

“Another.”

The blonde disappeared and returned a few seconds later with a fresh tumbler. Dean downed it in one, feeling the burn in his throat and his chest, soothing the ache he felt there. He held up the glass.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a dive like this all by yourself?” The barmaid gave him a coquettish smile, resting her palms on the bar. His eyes fell to her chest, her Henley shirt unbuttoned one too many. She smiled again.

“I get out of here in a half hour,” she was close enough to him that he could smell the remnants of her sickly sweet perfume- it made his head spin.

“Another,”

The barmaid scoffed, but took his glass nonetheless. A year ago, he’d have jumped at the chance, flirted a little, made her feel pretty. Now, the thought of her made him feel queasy, made him feel like he was doing something wrong, like he was betraying someone, a thought that had pretty much the same effect. When he looked at that barmaid, golden skin, long blonde hair, lacy red bra peeping through her shirt, all he could think about was the fact that she wasn’t someone else. She had blonde hair, not auburn; she was too tall, _way_ too tall, and her perfume was too sweet. He willed his mind to think of anything but her - he didn’t understand why she kept finding her way into his brain. She couldn’t be with them, she couldn’t, she wasn’t safe. She couldn’t die on his watch; he’d never forgive himself. She’d be better off without them.  A fresh glass was set down in front of him and he knocked it back like a reflex. He’d have to tell her, he thought. He’d have to.  
  
Dean’s vision was unfocused now, his head was spinning. He knew he’d had too much to drink, he felt the nausea in the pit of his stomach. As he tried to stand, something barrelled into his back, knocking him toward the bar. He whirled around, the nausea rising. He wheeled round to face whoever had been stupid enough to touch him tonight. The nausea subsided again, replaced by drunken anger that spread through his body and reddened his face.  
He found himself lunging towards the culprit, his shoulder knocking him to the floor, fist meeting his face so hard his knuckles stung. He felt someone behind him, arms locked around his chest, trying to pull him off; his focus shifted. Dean’s elbow struck his face and the man staggered back into the crowd, only to be pushed back into the ring again. The crowd was cheering; if it was a fight they wanted, a fight they would get. He was being circled, his opponent was huge; he wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to knock him backwards. He may have been strong, but Dean was quicker. He threw the first punch, but the guy barely staggered. Instead he threw himself at Dean, who sidestepped out of the way and let him careen into the crowd again. The hunter’s resolve faltered a little, and he staggered a little as the big guy turned to face him once more. This time, he wasn’t so quick, and the force of the man’s fist was enough to knock him on his back. It was followed by a kick to the stomach, which left him curled on his side. A boot hit his ribs and rolled him onto his back, a fist met his face. Dean smiled, relishing the pain. _You deserve this,_ he thought, _you deserve this._

 “Dean!” A familiar voice wiped the smile from his face. “Dean!” He closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him, the throbbing in his ribs, the sting of the open cuts on his face.

 “Get off, get off!” He heard her scrambling around beside him, but his eyes stayed shut. There was a crack of splitting wood and the bar fell silent. Her hand found his and she urged him up; he didn't protest. The smell of tobacco and vanilla mingled with iron and salt as an arm snaked around his back and a small body took most of his weight. He opened his eyes to the warm rain falling outside and his legs gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little delayed- I've had a busy week! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I hope I haven't tortured you all too much!


	16. Don't You Dare

As soon as the warm rain hit Dean's face his legs crumpled. I could hold his weight, but his arm was tight around my neck and his elbow was digging into my side. I set him down against the wall that wound around the car park of the bar and crouched in front of him. 

"Dean? Dean?" He didn't respond. Rain was trickling down his face and clinging to his clothes. It was warm, but as it settled on your skin it sent a chill through your body. I jogged back to my jeep; there were a couple of 'just in case' jackets in the trunk. I wrapped them both round him as best I could and sat down beside him. I could have jumped in the car, lifted him in next to me, but I didn't feel like moving. All I could do was sit next to him in silence, watching the rain bounce of the car roofs and splash into puddles, wondering why he was here. 

After what felt like an age, I felt Dean stir a little next to me. I moved so I was crouching in front of him again. 

"Dean? Hey,"

His eyes opened slowly, heavy as though they were made of stone. He blinked away the rain. 

" _What_ were you doing?" The sadness in my voice surprised me. 

"Maya?" He reached a wet hand to my cheek. "You came." 

I pressed my cheek into his hand. "Of course I came. What the hell was going on in there? Why did you disappear?" I tried to keep my voice soft, but inside I felt hurt that he left so soon; angry that he'd gone and got himself hurt. 

"I needed a drink." He answered simply, pulling his hand away. 

"A drink? It looked like you drank like you had something to forget. You wanna tell me what's going on?" 

"Maya, please..." 

"Dean. You disappeared as soon as you had the chance... you didn't even wait for me to finish up in the shower. You've not been yourself since you picked me up," he opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.  
"Don't try to deny it, Dean. You think I can't tell by now?" I gave him a small smile. "I'm not here to tell you off, Dean, I'm here because you got Sam and I worried, and because I'm here for you." 

"You really are an angel, aren't you?" 

* * *

 

She smiled at that, one that made her eyes crinkle. She was soaked through, wisps of hair that had fallen from her bun were plastered to her face by the rain, and her shirt clung to her body where she'd left her coat unzipped. She was wearing her green parka, with the fur hood she hadn't bothered to put up, and Dean could see the Run-D.M.C t-shirt peeking underneath the plaid he'd loaned her in the first week they'd met. She was ready to settle down for the night, showered, in her sweats. She'd come straight out when she noticed he'd gone, hadn't even bothered to change. He felt a tightness in his chest. 

"You shouldn't be with us," he just about managed to say. 

Her nose crinkled as she looked at him. "What? Don't be crazy." 

"I thought we could keep you safe. We can't." 

Her neutral expression faltered a bit. "But... this stuff... it would have happened whether you were here or not. Dean, it's not your fault." 

"You wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for us." He adjusted his position so he was sitting straighter, closer to her, his resolve strengthening with every word. "If you hadn't have bumped into us in the hospital that day, you wouldn't have known we were hunters, you wouldn't have agreed to work with us." 

Her eyes fell to the floor. "But I would have worked it out eventually, I would have tried to take them on myself, then I would have  _died..."_

Dean's stomached clenched. He imagined her then, lying on that bed, hooked up to those wires. How small and frail she looked, how quiet her voice was when spoke. 

_"Maya... she... I think she might be dying."_

_"I am."_

His hands squeezed into fists as he tried to clear his mind of that memory, of the thoughts of what would have happened if they hadn't called Cas. She'd have faded away to nothing, alone. She was so strong, so smart, but none of that would have mattered in the end. 

"You got a target on your back because of us, you're never gonna be safe." 

She shook her head. "So, what? You want me to leave? All of this has already happened, Dean, it's too late for that. If I stay, they're gonna find me. If I go, they're gonna find me, only I won't have anybody there to have my back." 

Dean's jaw clenched. "Trouble follows us wherever we go. If you're with us, they're never gonna forget about you. If you go, lie low, keep out of trouble, all this might have a chance of blowing over." 

He watched her face change from determination to defeat. She wrapped her arms around herself. "You don't want me here." 

Dean's stomach dropped. "What? No... I just... want you to be safe." 

"How many times do you need to be told, Dean, I'm safer with you and Sam. I don't want to go home, I don't want my old life back." 

"Your old life was safe." 

She stood up, her cheeks red, the rain still dripping from her hair into her face. "This isn't about safe. I don't care about  _safe._ I don't want to go, because I won't be with you and Sam." 

He stood up too, reaching out a hand to grab her arm. She was shivering. 

"Did you  _honestly_ think that after all this time, the only reason I'm here is self-preservation?" 

"I... well..."

"I wouldn't have come with you  _just to be safe._ I just wouldn't." 

"Maya... come on..."

She squared up to him, blue eyes staring into his. "Tell me now. Do you really want me to go? If you can tell me that _honestly_ , you _truly_ want me to go, I'll go. Right now."

His eyes dipped to the floor. She put a finger under his chin and tilted his head so she could meet his gaze once more. "To my face, Dean. Look at me." 

"I..." 

She stayed silent. The rain was roaring now. She took a step closer to him, her hand reaching out to find his. She ran her thumb across his knuckles, red and bruised and freezing cold. His eyes didn't leave her face, pale, those freckles peeking through. She took another step, her gaze fell to his mouth. She waited for him to flinch; nothing. Her lips brushed against his, tentative, slow. His body stiffened at first, heart thudding in his chest. Then she was less cautious- insistent, but still gentle. Dean tried, he tried to resist, but the touch of her lips on his sent sparks fizzing through his body, thawing the ice that had come from all that time in the rain. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should push her away, but the sweetness of her kiss, the way her hand reached for his jacket and gripped on to it like her life depended on it, he didn't have the strength. His resolve crumbled. She tasted like mint and rain and sweet apple pie. His hand snaked around her waist and closed the distance between them. His lips moved in sync with hers, warm but wet from the rain. Her touch was like a balm, seeping through his skin and into his body, soothing the throbbing in his ribs and his hands, the ache in his chest. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue and she laughed into his mouth, pulling away with flushed skin and heavy breaths.

"Are you sure you want me to go?" She asked. 

"Don't you dare."  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... it happened! Sixteen chapters in... I was a little late uploading chapter fifteen, so I thought I'd post the next one a little early to make up for it. 
> 
> What do you guys think? I'd love to know. Was it the right time? Did you expect it? 
> 
> See you next time!


	17. Love & War

No sooner had we heaved open the front door to the bunker, Cas was in front of us.

“Maya. Are you alright?”

His brows were knitted together, his mouth a tight line. I could see Sam below us; he gave me an apologetic look.

“I’m fine, Cas,” I tried to reassure him with a smile.

“Have you healed fully?”

“Yes, Cas, really, I’m peachy. Thanks to you, anyway,”

He finally let us descend the stairs, and flopped himself down on one of the hard chairs in the war room.

“I didn’t think you would ever hear me. I almost gave up hope. Phanuel convinced that I had to keep going; I'm sorry I thought that way.”

“Hey. It's okay, Cas, I almost gave up too. But I heard you, and here I am now. Thank you.”

He smiled meekly.

"Phanuel." Dean said. "Never heard that name before." 

"He's a friend, very much like me; he agreed to help me find you and protect you. You do have some allies in heaven." 

I let out a breath. "Well, that's a relief." 

"Kushiel. Did you learn anything from him? Cas asked carefully. 

“They thought I was a nephil,” I sat down, the angel in front of me.

“As I suspected,”

“Then they looked into my parents… I don’t know what they think I am now. Whatever I am, they don’t like it,”

“Whatever you are? Maya, you’re human, these guys have got it all… mixed up,”

Sam’s voice sounded from where he was leaning against the doorway. I saw Dean nod his agreement.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re human. Maybe if we tell ‘em that…”

Cas’ eyes flashed. “No. We tell them nothing. You may be human, but if you can do what we can do… they believe you are a threat to them, and to the entire world. Just as they would view a Nephilim... Dean, what happened to your face?”

He’d finally looked at Dean and I smiled a little at his surprise.

“Later. So what in the hell do we do?” Dean looked at Cas and then to me.

“They will try and convince you to give yourself up, get sent to heaven…”

“Yeah, but what do we do?” 

Cas didn't respond.

* * *

 “Hey, you,”  
  
She was leaning against the doorway, dressed in her old black leggings and a too-big sweater. It slid down her shoulder, skimming her pale skin. Her face was glowing in the warm light emanating from his small, brass lamp.  
She waved a little box in his general direction.

“Come to patch me up, huh?”

“Mmhm. Scooch.”

He slid over to one side of the bed, and she took her place next to him, legs folded under her. Dean watched her unclasp the box and take a few strips of white material. She poured something over them.  
  
“Does it hurt?” She asked, leaning closer to him.  
  
He winced as the cold cotton touched the gash on his eyebrow.  
  
“Never mind.”  
  
He could smell her perfume, the smell he’d come to find solace in. Her body lotion, her shampoo, too. Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth, and her face was set in a frown.  
  
“Couple of butterfly stitches should do it.” Her hand moved from his eyebrow to brush the bruise on his cheek, her touch lingering. His breath hitched as her soft thumb traced his lip, slightly swollen.  
His eyes snapped shut.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find you.”

****

  
His words caught me off guard. I looked at the crease of his forehead, the purple bruises straining under his tan skin, the darkness under his eyes. So tired. “You don’t have to apologise,”  
  
“No, I do. We got lazy, My, complacent. You ended up paying the price for it,”  
  
I toyed with his sleeve, the material warm and familiar between my fingers.  
  
“I’m okay, though, Dean, it worked out,”  
  
A gravelly laugh escaped his lips. “That’s not what it’s about,”  
  
“Then-“  
  
“How long were you there? How many days did you wake up and have him touch touch you, have him hurt you? You might not have any scars on your skin, but those things he did to you? He didn’t do them because they caused you physical pain, Maya.”  
  
“Dean, please. The only thing that gets me through is knowing that I got away.” I thought about Kushiel. So beautiful, breathtaking even, in the glowing light of those candles. I thought about the way his touch made my skin burn and my eyes stream. The smooth baritone of his voice in my ear, raising my skin into goosebumps. The way he got angry, and the power that radiated from him, making the air ripple and my stomach turn to lead.  
  
_“So help me god I will find every last person you care about and you will watch them die,”_  
  
“Twice.”  
  
His voice broke my reverie.

“Twice I’ve let you go. Twice, you’ve been hurt because of me. Never again. I didn’t think Sam and me needed anybody else, I thought we were good the way we were. Then you.”  
  
I shook my head.  
  
“It’s not good for you to be here. I’m not good enough. I should have protected you... but twice... twice I let you down,”

I could feel my eyes prickling, the sting of tears threatening to fall. How could someone as good as Dean feel such a burden of self loathing? Dean, with his gruff laugh and his rough hands and his warm heart. His picnics and his hands that grazed my skin and the woody scent of his cologne that lingered on your clothes and in the air long after he’d left you. I took his face in my hands then, and willed him to look at me. His green eyes heavy with all that he’d seen and all that he feared he’d see.  
  
“You are _good_ , Dean Winchester, and god help me you shouldn’t need me to tell you. I wish you could see that, I wish you could... trust yourself. There is nobody, _nobody_ in this world that hasn’t made mistakes. You are shaped by the decisions you make Dean, and those decisions make you a good man. I trust you, Dean, and I believe in you. I know you don’t need validation from me, but I want you to know.”  
  
Then, his mouth found mine clumsily; he sucked in a breath as my lips grazed the cut that marred his perfect skin. I ran my hands through his hair, shaking fingers wrapping around soft tufts of dirty blonde. His hand found my cheek, wet with tears now, and a calloused thumb rubbed them away. His body moved closer to mine, easing me backwards, his mouth moving from my lips to my exposed shoulder. The warmth of his body against mine was melting away all the pain, illuminating the darkness. We moved in sync, breathing in unison. His shirt came tumbling to the ground, my sweater, his jeans. I could feel his heartbeat now, where my hand rested on his bare chest. Every movement, every sigh, every kiss seeping into my soul and erasing every nightmare, every fear, every threat. I willed it not to end.

He fell down next to me, breathing heavy, eyes hooded. His body shifted to rest a head near my shoulder. He traced a finger across my stomach, where a scar should have warped my skin, and I planted a kiss in his hair.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, letting his eyes close.  
  
I reached for the blanket that had slipped to the floor, draping it over our tired bodies.  
  
“Good night, Dean.”

* * *

 

I yawned awake, stretching my back and legs under the warmth of the duvet. My hand reached over to the other side of the bed, but Dean wasn't there. Slipping out from beneath the covers, I shivered a little at the change in the temperature, then slipped my clothes back on and padded to the kitchen. 

"Mornin' angel," He was perched on the kitchen table, coffee in hand, in front of Sam whose brow was furrowed over the laptop. 

"You're up early. Planning something?" I sat down next to Sam, peering over at his laptop. "Whatcha doin?" 

Sam took a second before responding. "Finding ways to kill angels." 

I felt my face crease. "But we know how to kill an angel, right?"

Sam looked to his brother. " _An_ angel. One or two..."

"We're talkin' large-scale..." Dean finished. 

The penny took longer than it should have to drop. "You're talking all out war." It wasn't a question.

Sam placed a warm hand on his shoulder, his face softening. "We've gotta do whatever it takes to end this, to get you out of their line of fire." 

"This ain't gonna end until someone's dead, and it ain't gonna be you." 

I pursed my lips. "This is impossible. You're gonna take down all of heaven and earth?  With three of us?" 

"That's the thing," Sam said, new found resolution wrapping round his words. "We don't have to kill them all. We just want to send a message to the ones that are left: 'Don't mess with us, because you will lose'" 

"We're gonna draft in some reinforcements, people to help." 

"No. Nobody dies for me.  _Nobody."_ I looked at them pointedly as I spoke, months of fear and anxiety churning in my stomach, flushing my cheeks. "We deal with this.  _I_ deal with this." 

"Maya, come on. Don't you wanna kick this thing?" Dean bent down close to me, his eyes on mine. He didn't want to say it out loud, but his face gave it away:  _Please don't give up. Please don't leave us._

A wary smile graced my lips. "Ok. We'll fight. I'm done being worried to leave the bunker. First time in months I get to work a job and  _wham_... right into their hands. That's not happening again." 

The brothers smiled, Sam patted me on the shoulder. I watched as Dean's expression grew steely, his jaw tightened, his eyes flashed. I felt all the warmth and lightness from last night drain away from me, replaced by dread. I wanted to reach out to Dean, to take him back to that place, too. This morning should have been coy smiles, hands intertwined under the table, sharing a paper. Instead, we got this. We didn't get more than a night to be normal. 

Dean stood tall. "Let's do this, then." 


	18. Just Like Honey

 I was woken by an incessant beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. What the hell is that? I let my eyes flutter open, the room was dark. The culprit was on my bedside table- a digital alarm clock, aggressively red numbers, the sound pounding in my head. The door burst open, flooding light into the room. I blinked dumbly. This wasn’t my bedroom. It wasn’t anywhere I’d ever been before. Non-descript, grey curtains hung against a magnolia wall; the bedsheets wrapped around my body were white and starchy. Hotel.

“Hey, you, you should be up by now! We’re going to miss our flight.” The voice was Dean’s, warm and deep- affectionate.

What flight? I rubbed my eyes. “Dean? What’s going on?” I sat myself up.

“Chrissy, you alright? Seem a little spaced out.”

Chrissy? Who the hell was Chrissy? What in god’s name was going on? I felt panic rising in my chest, so took a couple of steadying breaths.

“Oh, no, I’m uh- fine. Tired. What time’s the flight?” I tried to play along, but my head was spinning.

“We got ages. I just wanted you to get up.” A warm kiss was planted on the top of my head.

“Oh, right.” He looked like Dean, he sounded like Dean, but he was… happier? Freer? Not my Dean. “and, um, where are we going again?”

Not my Dean gave me a perturbed look. “Did you hit your head? You sure you’re okay, angel?” I felt my stomach knot. Angel. But he wasn’t talking to me.

“I, uh, I’m fine, Dean. I just… like to hear it.” “Canada. The Rockies. Just what you wanted to do for your birthday…Just me and you, nature, lodges with hottubs-” He winked at me. “You gonna get up now?”

“Sure. I’m up.”

****

I blinked awake again. There was no alarm, but the room was still dark. The bed was huge and comfy, and it felt like there was endless expanse between me and the other side. The sheets were soft, well slept in, not like the ones in the hotel. I padded toward the door, trying to ignore my surroundings. _Just work it out_. I slipped through the door and onto a well decorated landing, the plush carpet warm under my feet. Snippets of a song travelled up the stairs.

_Walking back to you_   
_Is the hardest thing that I can do_   
_That I can do for you_   
_For you_

It was the Jesus and Mary Chain, one of the many bands Dean and I disagreed on.  It felt loud, like it was pounding in my ears. I followed the music down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” It was Dean, again, this time he was wearing blue overalls, his name embroidered on a patch on his chest. “Breakfast’s ready, but I gotta dash.”

He set a couple of waffles on a plate and motioned me to sit down. “You’re damn lucky to get a day off you know,” he kissed my cheek, hand squeezing my shoulders. “But I guess when you own the damn company, you should probably show your face, huh?” I gave him a weak smile. “Anyways, have a good day, Chris, see you at six for dinner?”

I didn’t say anything, merely nodded and tried to smile. Owning a company? He was dressed like a mechanic- did he own a garage now? My heart started thudding in my chest. He was out of the life. He was travelling, working a normal nine to five. I put my head in my hands. What the hell was going on? How did he get out? Then it hit me like a wave breaking. Chrissy. I wasn’t there, he wasn’t with me, or Sam, he was with someone else, someone new. Without me, he’d be fine, he’d move on, he’d leave this shitty life behind him. He’d meet someone else, he’d be happy. Without me. I tried to stand up but my legs were shaky, and I could feel nausea rising. Was this the future? A dream? A vision? The music had stopped but I could still hear the words in my mind.

_Walking back to you, is the hardest thing I can do, that I can do for you._

I’m not good for him, now, him or Sam, if I go stay, I’m holding him back. I willed my legs to hold my weight and tried to find the front door. I needed air, even if this was a dream, I needed to breathe. I found my way to the entrance hall, the door in my sights. The door handle was hot to the touch, hot enough to leave a red mark on my skin. I pulled my sleeve down over my hand and tried again, twisting and turning while the door rattled in its frame.

“Please. Please. I need to get out. Please.” I didn’t know who I was talking to.

The door clicked open. I stepped through and everything around me seemed to melt into something else. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands to my ears. “No. No. Not again,”

* * *

 

 I shot up. Panting, sweat beading on my forehead. My sheets felt damp and my head was pounding, I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. I was in my own bed, in my own room in the bunker. No alarm clock, no music drifting up the stairs, nothing. I slipped out of bed and grabbed a clean towel.

 _You just need to clear your head_ , I told myself, _clear the fog_.

I almost sprinted to the bathrooms. I switched on the shower furthest from the door, hoping that nobody else came in. I let the warmth roll over me, breathing in the steam from the too-hot water. I looked at my hand. There, clear as day, a red burn mark, right where my skin came into contact with the door handle. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. I was there. It stung when the hot water touched it.

I fumbled to turn the water off as quickly as I could and backed out of the cubicle, clumsily, my hands shaking. It was real. I dried myself quickly, not even bothering with my hair. I dashed back to my room, tears stinging in my eyes. I pulled on some jeans and a sweater, grabbed my car keys and bolted for the door.

* * *

 

“Maya?” She was sat in the far corner of a near empty diner, a cold mug of coffee in front of her. Castiel shook his head when he was offered his own.

“How do they do that?” her voice was quiet, defeated.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like that.”

Cas slammed his eyes shut. “What did they do to you, Maya?” She paused, went to pick up her coffee, but changed her mind.

“They showed me the future. I was there, like a dream, but I wasn’t myself – I was someone else. Dean was… Dean had moved on,”

The angel clenched his jaw at her words.

“He was happy.” He heard her breath catch in her throat, and she dropped her gaze to her hands, knotted in her lap.

“They don’t want you with them, Maya, with Sam and Dean. They know you are weaker divided… do not listen to them.”

“What if they’re right?”

“They’re trying to convince you to hand yourself over to them, without a fight. They are trying to convince you that Dean would be better off without you, that he will be happy. It is not a vision of the future, Maya. They are trying to cater to your weaknesses.”

Tears were welling in her eyes, and Cas felt his stomach tighten.

“But what if they’re right?” she asked again.

“We are not going to let it be right, Maya. The only way that that could ever, _ever_ , be real, would be if you handed yourself in. You’re not going to do that.”

She didn’t look at him. Instead she fumbled with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Maya, no.”

“What if it’s the only way?” “It is not the only way. I cannot let you do this, promise me you won’t do this.”

She looked at him now, her eyes boring deep into his own.

He fought not to break her gaze. Then, she simply nodded.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've been enjoying the last couple of chapters! We're on the home straight now! 
> 
> The referenced song and the title is the Jesus and Mary Chain's Just Like Honey.


	19. Worth Fighting For

Something wasn’t right, Dean could feel it. Ever since that night when she’d patched him up, that perfect night where he felt like everything was alright in the world and that they were invincible. That was three days ago, and for some reason he felt further away from her now than he ever had.

He kissed her again, the night they’d agreed to fight, and she smiled into it, her hand gripping his arms and her fingers laced with his. When he kissed her the following morning, she seemed sad, distant, as though his touch was hurting her. _Something wasn’t right._

* * *

 

 Five days after my night with Dean, and four days after my vision, we travelled to Sioux Falls to meet with Jody Mills. Dean said we needed a game plan that we were all in on- a co-ordinated attack, and I sat in the back of the Impala, letting the rumble of the car and the winding of the roads lull me to sleep. I dreamt of the angels, our all-out war: myself, bloodied and bruised, standing in the middle of a field scorched with wing-shaped burns, an angel blade on the floor next to me. I laughed.

I dreamt of Dean, him and I in a kitchen I didn’t recognise, drinking red wine and laughing, something simmering on the stove. There’s a knock at the door and we greet Sam, our smiles reach our eyes. We eat, we laugh, we talk about our days. I knew then, that what the angels had shown me couldn’t happen, that this is what I had to fight for. Cas made me promise not to let them win, and before, I wasn’t sure if I meant it. Now I did.

 *****

“Maya, we’re here.” Sam’s voice pulled me out of my dream. I rubbed my eyes, my joints still stiff from sleeping, and we pulled up outside what I presumed was Jody’s house. Dean opened the door for me and I slipped out of the backseat, taking a breath of mild dusk air. I felt my mouth stretch into a yawn I couldn’t stifle, and Dean gave me a crinkly eyed smile.

“Still tired, angel?”

“Always.”

I slipped my hand into Dean’s and let him lead me to the front door, following close behind Sam. The sky was darkening and warm lights from inside the house pooled on the freshly cut grass: It reminded me of my house when I was growing up, a real house, and I felt myself smile fondly.

Sam hadn’t even raised a hand to knock when the front door flew open and he was pulled into a hug from who I presumed was Sheriff Mills.

“Sam, it’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Jody.”

She peered around Sam. “Dean Winchester, get your butt over here.” He was pulled into an equally warm embrace, and I shuffled awkwardly now I was standing by myself.

“You must be Maya.” Jody turned her attention to me. She had a warm, kind face, but I sensed a sternness behind that smile that she could utilise when she needed to. Just like a mom. Was she a mom?

“Hi, Jody, it’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I held out my hand, but she pushed it aside, instead wrapping her arms around me in a way I hadn’t felt since my mom died. I felt a little choked.

“Any friend of the Winchesters is a friend of mine.” She pulled away, smiling, and I felt Dean’s hand slip back into mine.

“I made Tacos,” Jody gestured to the kitchen. “I hope you like tacos.”

* * *

 We sat around Jody’s dinner table, filling our faces with Mexican food, making small talk, waiting. Waiting for somebody to bring up what we were really here for. Cas had joined us now, and sat next to me a little awkwardly, watching us all eat.

It was Jody that brought it up. I felt my appetite disappear. I looked across at Dean, still eating, expecting for that look of grim determination sweep across his features, instead he looked excited, hopeful.

“We gotta make the first move,” he looked at me pointedly. “It’s no good sitting around waiting for them to do somethin’,”

Sam nodded. “Last time, we tried to hide Maya, thinking it was protecting her, but we realised pretty soon that it was bad for us all. Then we let our guard down and bam,” I jumped as he slammed his hand on the table. “They strike.”

“I called a few local hunters; I’ve worked with them all a couple times. They said they’d be willing to lend a hand.”

“Wow, Jody, that’s great. Right Maya?” I couldn’t bare the optimism on Sam’s face.

I dropped my eyes. I thought back to what I’d said in the kitchen, the morning after the night before, where all the hope I’d started to feel was drained out of me: Nobody dies for me. I meant it. I meant it. Now what? Now even more people are involved, now we’re going to war? And for what? For me.

I nodded.

“How do we do this, then? How do you plan to take out all these angels?”

“There is a spot, a place where the distance between Heaven and Earth is smallest. The only way we can draw the Angels out is to bring Maya there. They want to her to give herself up to them, to join them in Heaven. They have to think she is handing herself over, that everything they’ve done to her will work.”

“They’ll only send a couple Wings down to pick her up. We take them out with our angel blades, then, when they figure out what’s going on, they’ll send more.” Sam’s face was determined, his brow furrowed, but there was a glint in his eye.

  
“That’s when we fire up the Molotov’s.” Dean said simply.

“Hang on… Molotov’s?”

“Angel Molotov’s… instead of booze, we use holy oil.”

Jody paused for a second, her mouth half open in contemplation. “You know… that’s just stupid enough to work.”

Dean tilted his bottle at her.

“You do realise, though,” Jody held up a finger. “That you’re using her as bait. You sure you’re okay with that?”

Dean’s face turned sour, his jaw clenched. “I can’t think of anything worse, but we have to end this.” Dean looked to me, his forehead creased, and took a long pull on his beer.

“And _you’re_ okay with this?” Jody turned to me, now, and I nodded, as though I’d never been more okay with something in my life. I hadn’t.

“Being bait? I don’t mind one bit, in fact I’m happy to do it. What I’m not okay with is everyone else taking on this fight for me. If I could just- ‘

“No. No way-” Dean held his hands up.

“You don’t have to die for me-"

“Yes we do!” he pushed himself from his chair, wood scraping against wood as he stood up. “Yes we do. You don’t get to decide what we fight for! You think we’re just gonna let you get on with this, huh? Like it’s better for us if you weren’t here? The martyr thing don’t work with us, angel, cause it’s a card we’ve played too many times. You don’t get to decide.” He didn’t look at any of us, he simply picked up his beer and left.

I stayed silent. I wanted to go after him, but I knew he wouldn’t want me to, not yet. We finished our food and broke the silence with unimaginative small talk, and I helped Jody clear the table and load the dishwasher. She put a warm hand on my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,”

“Is it? Why should I be able to accept this so easily?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Dean of all people knows how difficult it is to put people on the line for your own sake, why should I be any different?”

The corner of her mouth pulled up. “Dean loves hard. He doesn’t even think about himself, that doesn’t matter to him. But someone else? Different story.” Jody gave me a knowing smile. The dishwasher started humming in the background.

My stomach jolted when she mentioned love. I ignored it.

“Go talk to him. I think he’s brooded enough.” I gave her a grateful smile. 

* * *

 

It was pouring with rain, now, and I followed the pathway from Jody’s front door to the Impala. I could see him sitting on the driver’s side, the light from the street-lamp casting shadows on his face, something silver glistening between his fingers. He didn’t look at me when I opened the passenger door and slipped inside.

“Hey, handsome,”

He didn’t look at me, just fidgeted with the cap of his hip flask.

“I’m scared.” I said quietly. I didn’t look at him, but I could sense him tense up. “Are you scared?” He said nothing again, instead, he unscrewed the cap of his hip flask and handed it to me. I took a swig. It burned as it travelled down my throat; I felt my cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,”

“You don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong, the universe did.” His voice was gentle but gruff, the drink taking the edge off his sharpness.

“The universe is a dick.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He did.

My hand found his thigh, the way it always did when I wanted to reassure him. I squeezed, the way I always did.

“I was being selfish, earlier. I didn’t want to have to live with the pain of being without you and the guilt of it being my fault, but you shouldn’t have to, either.”

“I’ve lost too many people, My. I can’t risk losing you, too. Not now, not after…” He shook his head. “Not when we have the chance for something better than this, you know? I’d thought about it before: the apple pie life, the picket fences, a nine to five. But I never thought it’d actually happen, that I’d ever really have somethin’ to give this life up for. Now I can see it, really see it. Tell me you see it too.”

My breath caught in my throat- my words, too. His eyes were glossy, and I realised his own hand was now on top of mine, his fingers gripping my own.

“I see it, too.”

“We gotta see this through, angel, cause you’re worth fightin’ for… that future’s worth fighting for.”

“Then we fight. You, me, Sam, Cas- all of us. We give ‘em hell, and we don’t stop giving them hell.”

 

 


	20. Heaven, MN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little, okay, very angst heavy, so be prepared for that! Hope you enjoy...

_We gotta cold one today, folks. Cold, cold, cold. Gotta couple weather warnin’s this mornin’, haven’t had snow this bad since that January in ’09, remember that Steve? Sure do, Andy. Like we said, gonna be bad today and tonight, so if you gotta go out, stay safe, get your snow chains on if you're in a rural area, and don’t forget your hat- you lose most of your heat through your head, Andy…_

I sat shivering in the car, the heating system fighting against the cold air. Snow was falling in flurries, settling on the windscreen, the whiteness blinding, the radio a soothing buzz against the silence.

“How long?” I asked. The man next to me glanced at his watch.

“Seven minutes.”

“Are you sure?” I could see my breath as I spoke, the car providing barely any warmth against the snow outside.

“Castiel entrusted me to deliver you, I must-“

I held my hands up. “Phanuel. I know… I know. Can you blame for me being anxious about this?”

The angel responded with a silent nod, his eyes dipping to look at his watch again.

We were less than ten minutes away from either the beginning or the end. I sat with Phanuel, waiting until it was time. The plan had to work, it had to. We’d talked it through so many times, stayed awake for days, planning every detail, every intricacy. The angels were going down today, or we’d die trying.

I didn’t miss the way Dean embraced me before I left last night, the lingering hand on the small of my back; the other wrapped in my hair.

_“We’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Stay safe, angel.”_

I didn’t miss the strain on Sam’s face, the way he whispered in my ear as he hugged me goodbye, small words of encouragement for what could be the end of us all. _We got this,_ he’d said, his jaw clenched, his body tense.

Cas left with just a nod; lips tight but eyes saying all we needed to hear.

This was it. We fight or we die, but we had the best weapon out there: something to fight for.

Dean and Sam were about a quarter mile away, parked up in my Jeep, the trunk loaded to the nines with our angel killing arsenal. They’d wait for the signal from Cas and bring it round; Jody and the other Sioux Falls hunters were a half mile away, they’d follow up just after.  
I didn’t know who was listening, if anyone, but I sent a silent prayer that this went to plan, that we catch them by surprise, that we keep the upper hand. Cas and Phanuel didn’t think they had any idea, they thought the plan would work, but I couldn’t shake off the gnawing doubt in my stomach.

“It’s time.” The words I’d been waiting to hear ended up hitting me like a bus.

I tried to keep my voice steady. “Let’s kick some ass.” The cold slammed into me as I got out of the car, cutting at my cheeks and taking my breath away. Gravel crunched under my boots as I followed Phanuel blindly through the snow, holding my breath to try and cease the shaking that had taken over my body.

“Did the gateway between realms have to be in Minnesota?” I turned to my companion, unaffected by the biting cold and heavy snow.

“This gateway was not intentional. We had no control over where it opened.”

From what I could see, woodland started to thicken around us, boughs heavy with snow forming archways above us. I wondered how we’d fight in this storm, how we expected ‘Holy Molotov’s’ to work in this snow. We walked for what felt like hours in the cold, but Phanuel eventually stopped and the brush thinned out. I turned my head toward the cold but felt nothing. We’d reached a clearing, about the size of a football field, completely untouched by the snow. In the middle, the air seemed to flicker and warp, dancing in the light.

“The sn-“

“There is too much power here. It spills out. Snow would have little chance against such energy. Are you ready?”

I nodded.

* * *

Dean took a sip from plastic cup, filled with coffee from the Thermos that Maya had insisted they bring. The snow was worrying him, the cold was biting, he could barely see. The radio buzzed against the silence.

“I don’t like the looks of this, Sammy,” he turned to his brother, his head covered by a trapper cap and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Cas wouldn’t have given us the go ahead if he was worried about a snow storm, right? It’s gonna be fine, it has to be.”

“She’s being offered up a bait, maybe as we speak. Nothing about this is right. We shoulda called it off.”

“Today we’re soldiers, Dean, all of us. We get out there, we fight, we finish the job.” Sam took a sip from his own cup.

“Do you believe that, Sammy?” Dean arched a brow.

“I… have to.”

The radio turned to static, loud and jarring in the silent car. The words they’d been waiting to hear came: “It’s time.” 

* * *

 

The lack of snow gave Sam and Dean a tactical disadvantage, but if they kept to the outskirts, where the snow was still falling thickly, they might be able to retain the upper hand. I followed Phanuel to the centre, where the air was rippling, and we waited. I couldn't stop my eyes from flickering to the fringes of the clearing, my ears straining for a sign. If Sam and Dean weren't here in time, the plan would fall apart. The ruse would become a reality. 

"Brother." A voice came from behind us, professionally courteous yet cold.  I spun around. She was wearing a dark suit, hair pinned up in a bun, pale skin pulled tight over sharp cheek bones and a pointed nose. A plain looking man stood next to her, his eyes deep set and scowling in my direction. 

"Dina... Daniel. It's good to see you." 

Dina held up a dismissive hand. "You have bought the half-breed. They _will_ be pleased. There may be a reward in it for you, brother." 

Phanuel's mouth pulled into a whisper of a smile. "I seek no reward. This is for the safety of our brothers and sisters, that is enough for me." 

"How honourable." The male angel spoke, his voice icy. 

I began to tense, my eyes scouring the edges of the clearing for any sign of the brothers or Cas. Nothing. 

"What... what will  _happen_ to me?" I feigned fear. 

"You will be quite safe. I've heard heaven's cells are quite comfortable." Dina smiled a thin smile. 

"Cells? I'll be a prisoner?" 

"Of course, you didn't think that we'd-" Dina didn't get to finish the sentence. Blinding light emanated from her body, her mouth wide open in pain. A yell barely had time to escape her lips before she crumbled the floor, the grass beneath her blackened in the shape of wings. 

"What the?-" Daniel was next, he wheeled around to face his attacker, but I slipped my angel blade from the back of my jeans and it pushed through his ribcage with a sickening pop. Light filled my vision once more and the ground burned again. 

Dean was in front of me, his eyes flashing, his chest heaving. My heart swelled.

"How long we got?" 

"A couple of minutes, if that." 

"Sam's on his way with the truck, Jody's five minutes out," he tossed Phanuel and I a bag each, filled with the makeshift Molotovs and a cache of lighters. "We can hold 'em off until they get there." He turned to me. "Angel. You okay?" 

"Peachy keen, Jellybean." I managed to breathe. 

"Position yourselves around the gateway. Phanuel, Maya, you take the front, I'll take behind with Sam when he gets here. We good to go?" 

I nodded and felt Phanuel do the same. 

"Give 'em hell." 

I put the duffle at my feet and pulled out a bottle and a lighter, my finger poised on the flint. We had to time it right, we didn't have an infinite supply of these things. 

I barely had a chance to catch my breath; the ground beneath me began to vibrate, the gateway rippling more violently, glowing more brightly. Three of them appeared, then seven, then ten. I looked to Dean. 

"Mine!" he shouted to me above the roar that had started to fill the air around us. The bottle smashed behind them and the dry grass went up like a dream, the air ringing with their yells of pain and smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils. We had no time to time to even think from then on. They began arriving in earnest, poised like Gladiators in an arena, the strength of millennia of wars behind them.

Two lunged at me, their angel blades glinting, their face set in smiles of anticipation. I took out my own blade and darted left, sending them skidding into Phanuel who plunged his knife into the chest of one. _Time to put what I'd learned in training into practice._ I held my hand out in front of me, revelling in the heat I felt travel up my palm. I dodged out of the second angel's way as he leapt toward me. He spun around quickly and I let him lunge, my hand gripping his wrist just as he reached my chest; he yelled out, the light filling my vision against. I let him fall to the floor.

I heard Dean yell something behind me, and I whirled round to see six or seven more heading in our direction. I fumbled for the Molotov I'd dropped on the floor, pulled the lighter from my pocket and lit it up, watching as the flames consumed them all.  
In my peripheral I could see my Jeep pulling up, Sam leaping it out of it and heading into battle. Jody and five or six of her hunter friends followed suit from one of their trucks. We'd be outnumbered soon, I thought, but we had weapons of mass angel destruction. 

The vibrations in the ground grew stronger and the light from the gateway became blinding. I closed my eyes against it, recoiling against the heat it seemed to be giving off. When I opened my eyes all hell broke loose. 

* * *

 Dean couldn't look at Maya any longer, the gateway was giving off the light of the sun. It was hot, so hot, and he closed his eyes against the energy it was giving off. After a couple of seconds, he felt the light diminish and opened his eyes to see exactly the all-out war he was planning for. 

They'd sent a whole battalion, a hundred or so, maybe more. He chanced a glance at Sam and Jody, poised to attack, their personal arsenals in the duffle bags at their feet. 

"Light em up!" He yelled, and fumbled with his own bag. He lit one bottle after another, tossing them as hard as he could toward the masses of those winged bastards, watching them become engulfed in the flames, flailing around, yelling out. _They weren't so big after all_. The clearing was suddenly a fire pit, they lit and threw and they kept on coming, kept on falling. 

Where was Cas? He could see Phanuel, smiting every angel that came within 10 feet of he and Maya, but Cas still hadn't made an appearance. 

"I'm out!" He yeard Maya yell from in front of him.  _Shit._ He felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

"Me too!" Jody called, whirling around to plunge her angel blade into an angel who'd split from the pack.

"I got two" Sam responded. 

 _Shit. God damn it._ He should have known this would happen, it was bound to. They had no choice, they had to keep fighting. They were sending less and less with each wave. There were ten of them, if they kept fighting like this they could do it. 

He bobbed and weaved, feigning and sidestepping in the way he'd perfected through all these years. He closed in, noticing everybody else doing the same. He saw Sam grappling with one of them on the floor, struggling against the weight of him, eventually rolling him on his side and pushing his blade into his side. Jody had two on her hands, their blades clashing, but she was holding her own like a pro. He didn't dare look at Maya, he couldn't. The angels kept dropping though, he could see that much. He'd told Maya to use her powers, to do whatever she had to to win. He could finally see Cas, his hand outstretched, sending two of them flying into the single patch of flames that hadn't already burnt out. 

"On your left!" He heard someone shout, their voice almost lost in the thunder-like roaring of the gateway and the shouts and grunts of their enemies. He lunged forward, trying to get some distance between him and the angel to make up for his delayed reaction. He felt himself stumble over something, the body of one he'd already killed, and his face met the floor with a painful thud. He rolled over as quickly as he could but he couldn't see the angel. He fought to push himself up over the mass of bodies on the floor, hopefully, nobody he knew, his feet failing to find sturdy ground. He groped around for his angel blade, feeling nothing but the charred grass beneath him. He registered something in his peripheral vision but before he had time to respond he felt the coolness of metal deep in his chest and the warmth of his blood. 

* * *

 

I felt time stand still. For a moment, the fighting stopped, my heart stopped beating, my lungs weren't getting any air. For one moment, he'd been distracted, his eyes somewhere else. That was all it took, his head start lost. Nausea burned in my stomach and rose up my throat. The world kept moving. 

"Dean!" I didn't feel my feet take me across to the battlefield to where he lay, I ignored every sound, every thought. I just ran. I grabbed the son of a bitch angel by his neck, the way I'd done with the guy fighting with Dean in that dive, letting that heat travel down my arm and to spread to his body. I fell to my knees by his side, watching the blood pool through that plaid shirt I loved so much. I could vaguely see Sam sprinting toward us, but the fight was still going on. I couldn't switch my brain into doctor mode because the patient in front of me wasn't a patient, it was Dean, my Dean. 

His eyes were open, but barely, and his breathing was slow. "Maya," he rasped.

I cupped his cheek. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Stay with me, OK, stay with me? How about it, huh? We've made quite a name for ourselves, huh? Sending a whole army? Stay with me, Dean, stay with me." I forced my mind to focus, to clear. I thought about how easily I'd killed those angels, just a touch. Cas said I might be able to heal? Could I? I had to try. I placed my hand on his chest, just above where the blade went in. I thought about the warm feeling, I thought about how much I wanted Dean to be better, I thought about how I  _needed_ him to get better. 

"Come on, come on,  _please."_ The world stood still again, I could only hear my heart and my ragged breaths. 

"Maya-" 

"No, Dean, no. No! This is going to work, it's going to work, stay with okay? You stay... you stay with me. Please? Pleaseyouhaveto, please." I could feel the warmth emanating from palm, my fingers, light leaving my body. 

"Maya, I-"

Then my world collapsed around me, on top of me, beneath me, crushing me, tearing my heart from my body. The world kept spinning - no, there was no world anymore. I looked down at him, those green eyes hidden, so beautiful, so peaceful. I thought that I'd never see them again. All I could do was scream. I screamed and screamed until my lungs gave out and the ground around me started shaking, humming, burning. I yelled until my body was on fire and the world around me was on fire and the ground was giving way beneath my legs. Hot tears ran down my face but I didn't feel them, my eyes were closed against that picture- I couldn't look at it, not now. I could hear Sam, Jody, everybody fighting, _still fighting_. They had to. _Did they know? Did they see?_   I let the sobs rack my body, tears burning beneath my eyelids, and let anger fill my heart and my soul and my blood. The ground kept vibrating, the air humming, it was hot again, burning hot. The anger kept boiling, burning my insides, melting the pain. Then there was light, blinding white light; a noise like thunder, deafening in my ear and dropping me to my knees. Then there was silence. 

*****

I opened my eyes again. It was still, calm. Sam was beside me now, hunched over Dean, silent. I stood up, looking around like it was my first day on earth. The ground was scorched, black. There were no angels anymore, just bodies. Wings burnt on the ground, the smell of fire. Jody was by Sam, her face tear stained. Cas stook next to her, facing the battleground.

"What... what happened?" I breathed.

Cas turned to me. "You did it," he said simply.

I stumbled back to Sam and fell to my knees again, wrapping my arms around him, letting silent tears fall. 

I don't know how long we stayed there, how much time had passed, but the ache in my chest was almost unbearable. I reached my hand to touch Dean's face one more time, to feel the softness of his cheek, the roughness of his stubble. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered. 

The wind blew around me, rustling the trees. I took a deep breath, relishing in the air. 

Dean opened his eyes. 

 

 

 


	21. Any Win

“Dean? Dean?” I could hear Sam’s voice, heavy with relief. I felt Cas kneel down beside me. My head starting pounding, my heart thudding against my ribcage. He’s alive. He’s alive.

Tears started welling and my mouth went dry. I wanted to say something, to say his name, to thank god, but I couldn’t. I watched Sam haul Dean up and I followed suit, getting up off my knees, finally finding the strength to pull Dean into a tight embrace, my head pressed against his chest, savouring the sound of his heart beating. I couldn’t let go, I never wanted to let him ago again, but I had to, we had to get out of there. I tried to step back but I couldn’t- couldn’t make my fingers unclench his jacket, my arms unlock from his body. My legs felt like jelly underneath me and it was as though every ounce of strength had seeped from my body. My knees buckled, Dean’s strong arms grabbing my wrists trying to steady me. Then, every bone and muscle in my body gave out and everything went black.

* * *

 

“Maya? Maya can you hear me?”

I let my eyes flutter open, sunlight burning my eyes. I was in the back of my Jeep, the back seats dropped down and a pile of coats underneath me. I could hear the heating system blowing full blast, the windows steamed up. I tried to sit.

“No, no. You stay there. You okay?” Dean: alive, breathing, talking. Asking how I was? He looked perfect, those green eyes crinkled with concern, not a single scratch that I could see.

“You’re alive.” I said, dumbly.

“Thanks to you. You wanna tell me what happened back there, angel?”

I leapt up, pulling him into another tight embrace, relishing the warmth of his body and the way his hair felt between my fingers and how his hand slid up my arm and around my neck.

“You’re alive,” I breathed again.

“You saved me… you saved my life, and you took out every single angel in a two-hundred-yard radius,” He cupped my cheek with a warm, rough hand, “soon as I woke up, you went down. Do you feel okay? Are you hurt?”

I shook my head vigorously, the movement sending a shooting pain through my skull. “I… I’m fine? At least I’m not hurt. I think I just exhausted myself, you know? The fighting and the healing and screaming and the…killing?” I squinted at him. “I did that? Those angels- that was me?”

“According to Sam… the screaming?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow,

“You were dead, Dean. We thought we’d lost you…I-”

Dean winked. “Ha. You’ll never lose me, kiddo. Never.”

“How did I kill all those angels? What did I do?”

“Um. In case it’s slipped your mind, I was kind of heading toward the light at this point… didn’t really see what was going on…”

The driver’s side door opened, letting in a few flakes of snow and an Arctic chill. Sam hopped in, shivering from the cold, his face a painful hue of blues and purples.

“It was like a massive power surge. The ground started shaking and there was this noise… like when thunder’s right on top of you. Then, bam. Gone. It was like a reaction to Dean um… to Dean. Like your power reacted to your emotions. More importantly though: you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam, honest. I guess it was just an effect of using all that power. Made me weak, I suppose. Where’s Cas?”

“He and Phanuel had to get the hell out of dodge for a while. Said they’d meet us at the bunker when the heat dies down.”

“And?...”

“Jody’s fine. We told her to head home, just in case they send anymore infantry. We only lost one man today, a hunter from Columbus. His name was James Grayson.”

I shook my head. “Damn it. Nobody should have had to die for me.”

“Angels killed his son. They got caught in the crossfire of a heaven versus hell brawl. He was, and I quote, ‘happy to die killing those bastards’. Jody’s making sure gets a proper send off.”

It was something, but it didn’t make me feel much better. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“Please tell me we can head back to the bunker?” I look between the two brothers.

“We’ve got to, it’s the safest place for us. We need to let the heat die down- gauge the situation.” Sam’s eyes were crinkled. “You sure you’re okay? Need anything before we head?”

“Sleep, and lots of it.” I gave them a small smile, but I could feel my eyes getting heavy and tiredness washing over me.

“You got it.” Dean laughed. More cold air drifted into the car as Dean moved the driver’s seat, but I barely noticed. I let my eyes flutter shut.

* * *

 

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in my room in the bunker, the TV humming quietly, gently illuminating the room.

“Mornin’ angel.” Dean was sitting in the small armchair next to the bed, legs crossed, a mug of coffee in his hand.

I rubbed my eyes. My throat felt like sandpaper and my arms like lead. “How… how long was I out.”

“We’re home aren’t we?” His head tilted and his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You sure you’re alright? All this sleeping….” He waved his hand at my bed, “this isn’t normal. You can tell me, you know that, right?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I feel so… weak, like the life’s been drained outta me… Maybe I just need a hot shower and breakfast.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Need a hand with that?” A smirk pulled on the corners of his mouth.

“I think I can manage the shower. Breakfast on the other hand…”

“Fine, fine. I need more coffee anyway.” He stood up, stretching into a yawn, placed a kiss on my forehead and left me alone.

I carefully edged out of bed, not quite trusting my legs to do their job. I moved slowly, picking up a clean towel, some sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt. My body felt strange, like it was lighter, like something was missing. Nothing hurt, I just felt weird: even bending down to pick up some socks was an effort.

I padded to the bathroom, humming a song whose name I couldn’t remember, and slipped out of the clothes I’d had on for days. I looked down at my legs, they were covered in bruises, scuffed like a kid in a playground. I looked at my arms- the same, mottled with purple, a small nick just above my elbow. I couldn’t help the frown that creased by face; there shouldn’t be bruises, there shouldn’t be cuts. My skin should look exactly the way it did before all this happened. Then it clicked.

I showered quickly but thoroughly, letting the water beat down on my bruised body, soothing me the way it always does. I dried off, slipped into my clothes and almost ran to the kitchen. 

* * *

 

Dean was standing over the stove, dish towel draped over his shoulder like he was working in an old-school diner. They’d fought their battle and won; Maya was here with them, alive and well; the bacon was sizzling, the pancakes were ready to go, and Sam had only just bought a fresh bottle of maple syrup a few days ago. It was going to be a damn good day.

He didn’t notice her come into the kitchen, but felt her arms snake around his waist and her body press against his.

“Whoa, whoa, lil’ lady, I’m working my magic here,” she smelt like vanilla, and her body was still warm from the shower.

She spun him round to face her, “’lil’ lady?’”

He shook his head, smiling. “I dunno, just thought it fit the vibe I was going for- ‘ _hard working diner chef in a small town_ ’.”

A smile broke across her face, lighting her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

He just shrugged, turning back to the stove.

“Where’s Sam?” he heard the scraping of a chair as she sat down.

“Library, I think. Why? You don’t wanna share all this syrupy goodness, surely?”

“I might be inclined, if I was feeling nice… no, I just have something you guys might wanna hear.”

As if on cue, Sam’s head poked round the kitchen door. “Is that pancakes?”

Dean screwed his face up. “You don’t eat pancakes, health freak.”

“I went to the store this morning and got some fruit, so yeah, I’m eating pancakes.”

“Way to ruin something fun, jerk.” Dean flipped a couple of pancakes and some bacon onto a plate and set it down in front of Maya.

“Now, now, Dean. We’ve got to respect each other’s life choices here, no matter how stupid.” She threw a cheeky grin Sam’s way and poured way too much syrup on her plate.

Dean sat down next to Maya, handing Sam his plate, turning his nose up when he pulled out raspberries and strawberries from the fridge. “Gross… so, what did you wanna tell us, angel?” he asked, breaking off a piece of bacon from his own plate and stuffing it in his mouth.

To his surprise, she didn’t say anything, instead, starting rolling up the sleeve of her shirt, all the way to her shoulder, and held up her arm.

“Bruises?” Sam asked, an eyebrow raised. “… _Bruises_! How do you have bruises?”

Dean’s face pulled tight, and her took her arm gently in his hands, inspecting the purple marks. “These should’ve healed, right?

She nodded. "Right." 

"But they haven't?" 

She turned her eyes to her arms as if to say 'duh'. "I think this is why I've been feeling so weak... I think my mojo might have, I dunno, been spent?" 

Sam chewed the inside of his cheek. "I guess that would make sense. You used a hell of a lot of power in the field. You bought Dean back  _and_ ganked all those angels in one go." 

"Try it." Dean said, watching her with a hint of worry set into his face. 

She turned to the door, determination in her eyes. They narrowed, and her hands screwed up, but there was nothing. The door didn't budge. 

"Oh." The two brothers said in unison. 

"Oh." Maya echoed. 

"We should call Cas," Sam suggested, his eyes meeting Dean's. 

"You said he was in hiding, you know, until the heat dies down?" Maya replied, rolling her sleeve back down her arm. She looked to both of them, eyes sparkling, skin glowing from the shower, smiling, like she knew something they didn't. "This is a  _good_ thing. Sure, I don't have any juice anymore, I can't smite anyone or close doors with my mind, but I'm no longer a target. I'm one hundred percent human, baby, they got nothin' on me," 

"She's right, Dean," Sam's eyes lit up. "We sent them a message, told them not to mess with us, and they won't- Cas will make sure of that. It's like... everything's just wrapped itself up in a neat little bow for us." 

Dean rubbed his stubble. "Sam... when do things  _ever_ work out this perfectly for us?" 

"I say we take it as a win, hundred percent. We'll cross any bridges when we come to them. But right now, they got nothing. I'm no longer undesirable number one," 

Dean lifted his coffee mug. "I'll drink to that. We take whatever win we can." 

"The three of us are here and alive and eating Dean's legendary  pancakes. What the hell else could we want?" Maya smiled that smile that made Dean's stomach knot, put her warm hand on his knee, and squeezed. Like she always did. It made him feel safe, the way it always did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, Christmas and work kind of took over! Hope you enjoyed this chapter- only one more left in this story! There will be more, though, so keep your eyes peeled ;)


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for this chapter is Just Like Heaven by The Cure, for obvious reasons! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG5-Dc8sxlU

_Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick,_

_The one that makes me scream, she said_

_The one that makes me laugh, she said_

_Threw her arms around my neck_

_Show me how you do it and I'll promise you_  
  
I'll promise that I'll run away with you, I'll run away with you

 

 _"Spinning on that dizzy edge, kissed her face and kissed her head, dreamed off all the different ways I had to make her glow..."_ Dean's voice carried over the rumble of the Impala's engine, the wind whipping in through the open window, my laughter. 

" _WHY are you so far away, she said, why won't you ever know, that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you,"_ I sang the next lines dramatically, head bopping, my hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, Dean shaking his head, laughter rumbling in his chest. 

"I knew you'd come round! I knew it!" The song carried on in the background, filling the car. 

"Hey, hey! I never said I like it..." 

"You were singing along... you even put on a voice..."

His face turned mock-serious. "There was no voice." 

"There was no voice." I mocked, dropping my voice to a deep baritone. "There  _was_ a voice." 

"Concentrate on the road, Robert Smith, you're driving Baby." 

"Ok.. ok!" I bobbed my tongue out. Dean had finally let me behind the wheel of the Impala, and we were cruising along, the back seats piled high with groceries, a twelve-pack, and a couple of cans of white paint. 

"You know... I think the paint's really gonna do the trick in my room... don'tcha think?" 

"I mean... there's no windows, but sure..." 

I slapped him on the knee. 

"Whoa, whoa, hands on the wheel sister... maybe you should have bought one of those tacky paintings they had at the back of the store..." 

"The one of the Juke Box with all those neon musical notes coming out of it  _was_ really something..."

Dean shuddered. "Album artwork... that's what you need." 

"Orrrrr..." I turned to look at his face. "Tolkien's original Lord of the Rings illustrations!" 

"Orrrr... the  _Mob Rules_ album cover!" 

I pursed my lips. "No, sweetie. No." 

We pulled up outside the bunker, struggling through the heavy door with all our bags. Sam was following up on a call from another hunter, and wasn't due back until tomorrow night. 

"We could have made two trips, you know..."

"I'm Dean effin Winchester... I don't make two trips." 

 

It took us a while to unpack all the groceries, and all the while Dean was humming the same song, moving about the kitchen with a  _little_ more bounce than usual.  I smiled to myself knowing I'd got it in his head. 

"You wanna start on the painting?" He asked when we'd finally finished, leaning against the kitchen counter in my favourite plaid, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I moved to stand in front of him, my arms wrapping around his neck, his own snaking round my back. 

"I want dinner, and then I want a movie, and then that giant caramel apple pie we bought from the reduced section.." 

He dramatically took my hands in his and clasped them to his chest, like something out of a bad rom-com. "Just when I thought you couldn't get more perfect..." 

"I know, I know. Dream girl, I get it. Now what's for dinner?" 

He pulled me closer to him, our noses touching, and kissed me softly, his hands finding their way to my hair. His lips lingered on mine for a moment, then he pulled away to look at me properly. 

"Is this what it's like?" 

"What what's like?" 

"Apple pie life... domestic bliss?" 

"Well, the apple pie goes out of date tomorrow... but I'd say this is about as close as it gets." 

He smiled. That crinkly eyed smile, sparkling green, careless stubble framing his mouth. I kissed him again, long and soft, smiling into it. "Let's make dinner." 

 

* * *

 

Rain pattered down on metal rafters, the cold room illuminated by rows of church candles, their melted wax turning them into warped statues. A man stood at a dark, mahogany desk, facing away from the door, finger steepled under his chin.

"The female hunter. Her grace is lost." 

A hand slapped down the table, the sound of cracking wood reverberating through the small room. The other man jumps. 

" _How_ can this happen?" The man spits, causing the other to recoil. 

"I... I don't know, sir... I only just received word now... I-" 

The man at the desk hisses, his eyes flashing blue. "I thought you'd do much better than this... _much_ better. She was our best option: strong, smart, _beautiful._ We find a new subject... you have two days. She better be of the same standard." 

"Yes, sir... of course..." The smaller man bowed, backing out the room. 

The remaining man sighed. "A perfect example of the necessity of my work..." 

The candles flicker out with the click of a finger, the wind howls through broken windows, the man slips through the door and into the dark night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we have it! The final Chapter of Angel in Training! I really hope you enjoyed it, and enjoy this little bit of fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it.... 
> 
> As you've guessed, Maya, Sam and Dean will be returning, because obviously, they just can't catch a break... 
> 
> Thank you to those who've read this far, I appreciate it!
> 
> See you soon, AP x


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